AMERICANA CONTEMPORANEA

Selection y compilaci6n de DUDLEY FITTS

A NEW DIRECTIONS BOOK

THE FALCON PRESS, LONDON ANTHOLOGY

OF CONTEMPOKfitf..: ::::,: LATIN-AMERICAN POETRY

Edited h DUDLEY FITT

A NEW DIRECTIONS BOOK NORFOLK, CONN. COPYRIGHT 1942 AND 1947, NEW DIRECTIONS

PRINTED IN U, S A. A LA MEMORIA DE

JOSE MARIA EGUREN

1892-1942

Ingenio mors nulla nocet, vacat undique tutum: inlcesum semper carmina nomen habent. IN L IMINE PRIMO TUERCELEEL CUELLO

cisne de |icEi^^cf ejip^l engaiioso plumaje que 3a su'fibfaf bTahca al azul de la fuente;

el no p^3U gracia mas, pero no siente

el alma de las cosas ni la del voz paisaje,

de toda Huye forma y de todo lenguaje que no vayan acordes con el ritmo latente

de la vida profunda . . . y adora intensamente

la vida la vida tu ? y que comprenda homenaje.

Mira al sapiente buho como tiende las alas

desde el Olimpo, deja el regazo de Palas

en arbol el vuelo . y posa aquel taciturno . .

El no tiene la del mas su gracia cisne, inquieta se clava en la pupila, que sombra, interpreta el misterioso libro del silencio nocturne.

Enrique Gonzalez Martinez THEN TWIST THE NECK OF THIS DELUSIVE SWAN

THEN twist the neck of this delusive swan, white stress upon the fountain's overflow, that merely drifts in grace and cannot know 5 the reeds green soul and the mute cry of stone.

Avoid all form, all speech, that does not go shifting its beat in secret unison with life . . . Love life to adoration !

Let life accept the homage you bestow.

See how the sapient owl, winging the gap from high Olympus, even from Pallas' lap, closes upon this tree its noiseless flight , . .

Here is no swan's grace. But an unquiet stare interprets through the penetrable air the inscrutable volume of the silent night.

John Peak Bishop

PROLOGO Prologo

introductivo de la ESTA antologia se propone hacer un examen de Ruben Dario en No se poesia americana desde la muerte 1916. a tradicion rubendariana liego arbitrariamente al terminus quo. La contra ella una fuerte es todavia muy poderosa, pero ha surgido orden escrita en reaccion en gran parte de la poesia de primer America en estos ultimos veinticinco anos reaccion anticipada en el soneto de Enrique Gonzalez Martinez que sirve de epigrafe a este volumen. La poesia nueva es mas dura, mas intelectualizada : su simbolo es el 'sapiente buho' en contraste al cisne donairoso pero vago y algo decadente que tanto amaban Dario y los simbolistas franceses que lo precedian. Esta poesia la han vigorizado los temas y los ritmos indigenas sean Indies, afroantillanos, o gauchescos que la han transformado en algo muy criollo y enteramente de nuestros tiempos. Sin perder nada de los tonos profundos de su linaje europeo, nos habla con voz autenticamente suya. La poesia, tras larga ausencia, ha vuelto al pueblo. Seria equivocacion, sin embargo, suponer que cada poeta ameri- cano escriba a lo Nicolas Guillen, a lo Jacques Roumain, a lo Alejandro Peralta. La tradicion anterior, como ya he dicho, es potente aiin. En la escuela rubendariana sensoria, decorativa, ex- quisita se da clase todavia. En otras partes nuestro propio Walt Whitman, sin hacer mencion de Edgar Poe, es un antecesor aun activo. Mas recienternente, y sobre todo en Mexico, Ha dejado hue- lias la influencia de poetas como Valery, Rilke, Eliot, MacLeish, y Crane. Y cuentan con adeptos, aunque cada vez mas escasos, los credos de Dada, del vorticismo y del surrealismo. La escena americana es un campamento y con razon dij erase campamento de armado tendencias y movimientos. Y el antologista que se arriesgue por alii debe prepararse para todo. El antologista. Ese infeliz que inicia su tarea con el triste pre- sentimiento de que todo cuanto haga va a desagradar a muchos, y que nadie mucho menos el quedara satisfecho, una vez ter- minada su obra. Esto parece suceder especialmente en el dominio poetico, cuya pura serenidad se halla agitada continuamente por alaridos de partidarios y manifiestos de grupos. Yo he procurado caminar sin prejuicios por entre estas fogatas, ensanchando la Preface

THIS anthology is intended as an introductory survey o Latin American poetry since the death, in 1916, of Ruben Dark). The terminus a quo was not arrived at arbitrarily. Although the Dario tradition is still very powerful, much of the important poetry written to the south of us during the last quarter century has mani- fested a strong reaction against it a reaction prefigured in the sonnet by Enrique Gonzalez Martinez which serves as epigraph for this volume. The new verse is tougher, more intellectualized : its symbol is the 'sapient Owl', as opposed to the graceful but vague and somewhat decadent Swan so beloved by Dario and his precursors among the French symbolists. Native themes and na- tive rhythms whether Indian, Afro-Antillean or Gaucho have it into that is energized it, transforming something peculiarly American and wholly of our own time. It has never lost the pro- found tones of its European ancestry, but it speaks to us with a voice that is authentically its own. Poetry, after long absence, has returned to the people. Nevertheless, it would be a mistake to suppose that every poet in Latin America writes in the vein of a Nicolas Guillen, a Jacques Roumain, or an Alejandro Peralta. The earlier tradition, as I have ex- said, is still potent. The school of Dario sensuous, decorative, our Walt quisite is yet holding classes. Elsewhere own Whitman, to say nothing of Edgar Poe, is a living ancestor. More recently, of as and especially in Mexico, the influence such poets Valery, Rilke, Eliot, MacLeish and Crane has left its mark. And the tenets of Dada, of Vorticism and of Surrealism claim, though in decreas- is a ing numbers, their adherents. The Latin American scene camp one might reasonably call it an armed camp of tendencies and movements. And the anthologist who picks his way through it must be prepared for almost anything. his The anthologist. He is that unhappy fellow who approaches task with the gloomy foreknowledge that whatever he does will be himself least of all will be displeasing to many, and that no one happy about his book when it is done. This seems to be particularly true in the realm of poetry, whose pure serene is agitated .endlessly I have tried to by the cries of partisans and the slogans of coteries. P ROLOG O de seleccion tanto conio me lo permitian el espacio que dispoma, la dificultad de obtener libros extranjeros en tiempos de guerra, azares de la no se y los Inevitables traduccion; y aunque puede todos estos rnerito, ni pretender que tengan poemas igual siquiera decir con toda sin- que tengan todos un valor duradero, puedo no me ccridad que no he incluido ningun poema que haya gustado Al fin de la por alguna que otra razon. cuentas, suprema disculpa sobre el cual no de del antologista la da su propio gusto, dcjara no de haber disputa, pero del cual hay posibilidad escape. de ciertos nombres Conviene sin embargo explicar la omision y la inclusion de otros. Han sido cxcluidos, con unas pocas excep- o en estilo a mi terminus a clones, ios poetas anteriores en tiempo lo lamento en la omision de Dario quo. Esto ha resultado y mismo; de Guillerrno Valencia, ese paladin de las letras colombia- nas; del finado Porfirio Barba Jacob, otro colombiano, cuya poesia de lo de los inquieta y vibrante es menos conocida que merece; Arturo grandes argentinos Enrique Banchs, Leopoldo Lugones y Capdevila; de los mexicanos Ramon L6pez*Velarde y (con'ex- cepclon de su soneto epigrafico) Enrique Gonzalez Martinez; y de los cubanos Regino Boti y Mariano Brull. En cambio, he in- cluido obras de unos cuantos poetas que parecen tal vez antccedcr a mi periodo, pero cuyo genio le pertenece tan integralmente que el eran imprescindibles : Duracine Vaval, por ejemplo; y poeta satirico colombiano, Luis Carlos Lopez; y Jose Maria Eguren, primer simbolista peruano, fuente de inspiracion para tanta poesia subsecuente, y cuya muerte este ano fue lamentada por toda la America Latina. A nadie le puede constar mas penosamente que a mi que muchos de los poetas representados aqui por solo uno o dos poemas rnerecen mas espacio del que he podido darles. De nuevo debo declarar en defensa mia que yo deslino mi libro a servir de introduction. El terreno es tan ricamente variado y tan inmenso que no habia otra solution posible. Mis largas exploraciones ban sido para mi una fuente de delicias y de constante revelation; y mi mayor esperanza es la de poder trasmitir algo de esas tan incitantes revelaciones, a fin de que Induzca a una investigation mas aniplia y una inter- pretacion mas complcta de los poetas que no hubiera tratado con debida consideracion. Si esta antologia logra tal efecto, habre al- canzado sobradamente mi proposko. PREFACE move among these campfires with an open mind, making my se- lection as broad as the space at my disposal, the difficulty o obtain- ing books from abroad in war-time, and the inevitable hazards of translation would permit; and while it can not be pretended "that all of these poems are of equal merit, or even that all of them are of lasting value, I can honestly say that I have included no poem which did not, for one reason or another, please me. When all is said, the anthologist's last plea is his own taste, about which there may indeed be much dispute, but from which there is certainly no escape. It is nevertheless desirable to explain the omission of certain names and die inclusion of others. Poets anterior either in time or in manner to my terminus a quo have, with a few exceptions, been excluded. This has meant to my sincere regret the omission of Dario himself; of Guillermo Valencia, that paladin of Colombian letters; of the late Porfirio Barba Jacob, another Colombian, whose restless, vibrant poetry should be better known than it is; of the great Argentinians Enrique Banchs, Leopoldo Lugones and Arturo Capdevila; of the Mexicans Ramon Lopez Velarde and (except for the epigraphical sonnet) Enrique Gonzalez Martinez; and of Regino Boti and Mariano Brull, of Cuba. On the other hand, I have included work by a few poets who would seem to belong be- fore my period, but whose genius is so definitely a part of it that they could not be omitted: Duracine Vaval, for instance; and the Colombian satirist Luis Carlos Lopez; and Jose Maria Eguren, the first Peruvian symbolist, from whom so much later poetry has caught its inspiration, and whose death this year was lamented throughout Latin America. No one is more uncomfortably conscious than am I of the fact that many of the poets represented here by only one or two poems deserve more space than I was able to give them. Again I must plead in defense that my book is intended as an introduction. The field is so richly variegated and so immense that no other solution was possible. My long exploration of it has been a source of delight and a constant revelation to me; and my chief hope is to communi- cate some of the excitement of that revelation, to the end that it may lead to a wider investigation and fuller interpretation of those poets whom I have so cavalierly neglected. If the anthology does this, it will abundantly have served its purpose. PROLOG O

II

LA POESIA es notoriamente mas dificil de traducir que la prosa. las cualidades Idealmente, una traduccion debiera reproducir todas Sin de sonido, sentido y sugestion del poema original. embargo, Ademas de los rara vez resulta posible en la practica. problemas la que presentan la diction intensificada y presentation compri- mida, hay un sinnumero de asuntos tecnicos metro, cadencia, cuenta. Para resolver esta rima, etcetera que hay que tomar en nuevo en con- dificultad, se puede escribir un poema ingles que maximo sea serve todo lo posible del original, pero cuyo proposito Para conse- crear en conjunto un efecto que le sea comparable. el traductor una libre guirlo, es probable que emplee parafrasis, razones de rima o de transposiciones y alteraciones por ritmo, y varias clases de expansion o de compresion. Es muy posible que el resultado sea un poema que valga por si mismo, pero sera una crea- tion nueva mas bien que una traduccion estricta. No me opongo a este metodo; al contrario, lo he empleado extensamente en mis evitarlo en este traducciones del griego y del latin; pero decidi de los textos frente a las libro, por juzgar que la insertion originales versiones inglesas exigia un metodo mas literal. la de la nueva Reconozco que esta fmalidad es mas prosaica que creation, pero debiera resultar mas util para los lectores que qui- sieran comparar los dos textos. No se trata de hacer una traduc- cion interlineal; espero que hayamos evitado versiones del cono- cidisimo tipo Cesar-habiendose-levantado~y-afdtado-en-dterior~ GaUa-dias-quince-su-marcha-hizo; pero hemos procurado seguir a con toda la exactitud posible el original, renglon por renglon y veces palabra por palabra. Con muy pocas excepciones esto ha re- querido el sacrificio de efectos de sonido y metro para lograr mayor fidelidad literal. Nuestras versiones no son poeticas sino por acci- dente. En realidad he estropeado algunos de los mejores efectos de mis colegas insistiendo sin piedad en una traduccion ad litteram expressa. Sin embargo, debiera ser posible para los lectores con conocimientos aun muy escasos de los idiomas originales trasladar a las traducciones algo del color y tono de los versos espanoles, portugvieses o franceses. Hay que confesar que este metodo literal ha influido hasta cierto punto en la selection de los poemas. Ha sido necesario abandonar PREFACE

II

Poetry is notoriously more difficult to translate than prose. Ideally, a translation should reproduce all the qualities of sound,, sense and suggestion of the original poem. Practically, however, this is seldom possible. Aside from the problems presented by heightened diction and compressed statement there are numberless technical matters metre, cadence, rhyme, and so on to be taken into ac- count. of is One way solving the difficulty to compose a new poem in English, a poem which preserves as much of the original as possible, but whose principal aim is to make a general effect that will be comparable to it. In order to achieve this the translator will probably employ free paraphrase, transpositions and alterations for the sake of rhyme or rhythm, and various kinds of expansion and compression. The result may very well be a poem in its own right, but it will be a re-creation rather than a strict translation. I have nothing against this method: indeed, I have used it extensively in my translations from the Greek and Latin; but I decided against it for the purposes of this book, believing that the printing of the original texts opposite the English versions made a more literal method desirable.

This goal is admittedly more pedestrian than that of re-creation, but it seems serviceable to the reader who may want to compare the two texts. It is not a question of making a 'trot': I hope that we have avoided renderings of the all too familiar Caesar-having- ari$en-and-shaved-into~Hither-Gaul-for~tw variety; but we have tried to stay as close to the original as pos- sible, line for line and sometimes word for word. With a very few exceptions this has meant the sacrifice of sonal and metrical effects in the interests of a greater literal fidelity. Our versions are not poetry, except accidentally. Indeed, I have ruined some of my col- leagues* best effects by heartlessly insisting upon an ad litteram ex- fressa rendering. Nevertheless, it should be possible for readers even distantly acquainted with the original languages to bring something of the colour and tone of the Spanish, Portuguese or French verses over to the translations. It must be confessed that this literal method has to some extent influenced the choice of poems. It has been necessary to abandon those techni- many admirable pieces whose excellence lay chiefly in PROLOG muchas obras admirables cuyas excelenclas consistian principal- mente en esas virtudes tecnicas que hemos tenido que desatender. sufre mucho con este tratamien- Lo puramente lirico, por ejernplo, las El to literal. Tambien el soneto y la mayoria de formas fijas. verso libre se traslada con mas exito; pero aqui tambien se raulti- del ritmo de la co- plican los problemas con la desintegracion y incluir una seccion herencia verbal. Por ejemplo, hubiera querido de Altazor, por Vicente Huidobro, poema de enorme importancia esfuerzos no por muchas razones; pero a pesar de cuantos hicimos, dificultades de traduccion resulto inteligible en ingles. Por varias tuvimos que oxnitir a muchos poetas notables: me vienen a la memoria Sara de Ibanez, y Emilio Ballagas, y Andres Eloy Blanco. Pero era cuestion de decidirse o por la consistencia o la inconsis- a costa tencia, y preferi adherirme a los principios establecidos, aun de perder mucho que era admirable, in

PARA mis textos he recurrido a cuatro fuentes principales: edi- ciones definirivas de las obras del poeta, antologias como los ad- mirables Indices publicados por la casa chilena Ercilla, revistas, y manuscritos ineditos. He podido consultar la mayoria de los ori~ ginales directamente es decir, en las ediciones defmitivas. Solo cuando me ha resultado imposible he recurrido a las antologias; y en estos casos el cotejo de un poema como aparece en varias colec- ciones ha servido para establecer un texto bastante autentico. Las revistas son menos satisfactorias. No dispuse de otro medio para consultar mucha poesia excelente, y las excentricidades de los cajistas provinciales son a veces dificilisimas de interpretar. En casos cuando no pude comunicarme con los autores, no hubo mas remedio que adivinar; y doy mis excusas a los poetas si no he acertado siempre, Pero son los manuscritos los que han presentado los mayores problemas. Para no mencionar accidentes un manus- crito importante e irreemplazable llcgo con senas de haberse dado un bano en el oceano camino a Nueva York, con resultados textua- les que le hubieran encantado a un Bentley los manuscritos son poco dignos de confianza por diversas razones. Algunos de ellos, de o tercera copias segunda mano, eran evidentemente imperfectos; y no siempre ha sido posible darles autenticidad ni consultando a los autores ni indagando los origenes del texto. Ciertos poemas ineditos del finado Carlos Oquendo de Atnat, por no citar mas PREFACE cal virtues to which we have had neglect. The pure lyric, for ex- ample, suffers badly from this literal treatment. So does the sonnet; so do most of the fixed forms. Free verse comes through more satisfactorily; but here again, the problems multiply as rhythm and verbal coherence disintegrate. For instance, I should like to have included a section of Vicente Huidobro's Altazor, a poem of enormous importance in many ways; but no amount of labour sufficed to make the English intelligible. Translation difficulties of various kinds are to blame for the omission of many notable poets: Sara de Ibanez comes to my mind, and Emilio Ballagas, and An- dres Eloy Blanco. But it was a matter of choosing between con- sistency and inconsistency, and I thought it best to adhere to the established principles, even at the expense of much that was ad- mirable.

ii i

FOR my texts I have had recourse' to four main sources : definitive editions of the poets' works, anthologies such as the admirable Indices published by the Chilean house of Ercilla, periodicals, and unpublished manuscripts. I have been able to consult most of the originals at first hand that is to say, in the definitive editions. Only when this has proved impossible have I turned to the antholo- gies; and in these instances the collation of a poem as it appears in several collections has generally established a reasonably authen- tic text. The periodicals are less satisfactory. A great deal of fine poetry has been available to me in no other form, and the eccen- tricities of provincial compositors are sometimes exceedingly hard to resolve. Here, when I could not get in touch with the authors, I have frankly guessed; and I apologize to the poets if my conjec- tures have been wrong. But it is the manuscripts which have of- fered the gravest difficulties. To say nothing of Acts of God one important and irreplaceable typescript apparently fell into the ocean somewhere en route to New York, with textual results which would have enchanted a Bentley they are unreliable for a variety of reasons. Some of them, rescripts at second or third hand, were obviously faulty; and it has not always been possible to authenticate them either by consulting the authors or by tracing the texts to their sources. Certain unpublished poems by the late Carlos Oquendo de Amat, to cite only one example, circulate entirely in manuscript; P R 6 L O G

que un ejemplo, circulan enteramente en manuscrito; y.como hay tantas variaciones en detalle como admiradores y por eso promul- gadores de sus versos, es casi imposible decidir exactamente lo que escribio Oquendo. En tales casos he tenido que ser arbitrario, escogiendo la variante que parecia mas probable, con la esperanza deacertar.

Tratandose de lo impreso, he seguido la ortografia, la acentua- cicn y la puntuacion de los originales. Hay gran variedad de con- venciones en distintos paises, y hay a veces contradicciones en la obra de un mismo poeta; pero a menos de establecer claraniente que una variante fuera error de imprenta, he preferido seguirla aun a riesgo de contrariar la intencion del autor. Han sido co- rregidos los errores palpablemente mamfiestos. IV

Mis deudas de gratitud son extensisimas. Como cuantos han in- dagado este asunto, he encontrado estimulo e incentive en las obras criticas e historicas de los doctores Federico de Oms, Arturo Torres- Rioseco, Estuardo Nunez, y Luis Alberto Sanchez. Tambien he sido afortunado en la cortesia que me han dispensado la Biblioteca del Congreso, las de las Universidades de Harvard y de Columbia, y la de la Union Panamericana. Le debo gratitud especial al Sr, Dudley Poore, que selecciono y tradujo los poemas brasilenos; y al Sr. H. R. Hays, no solo por haber las escrito Notas, sino tambien por haberme proporcionado generosamente textos y traducciones. Solo quien haya tratado de sostener una correspondencia literaria internacional en tiempos de guerra puede darse cuenta de lo mucho que debe este libro al Sr. Diomedes de Pereyra, cuyo celo incansable me ha proveido ma- terial de toda la America Latina, igual que de bibliotecas y fuentes en en particulares Washington y Nueva York, y cuyos consejos fraternos me han ayudado mas de lo que puedo decir. Le debo mucho asimismo a la Sra. Muna Lee de Mufioz Marin por su bon- dad en facilitarme muchas obras que dc'otra manera no hubiera su su podido consultar, por simpatia y agudeza critica excepcio- nales, y por su notable generosidad en haber hecho traducciones. El Sr. Angel Flores, de la Union Panamericana, ha contribuido con numerosas durante sugestiones toda la preparacion del libro, y ha con cortesia a respondido inagotable mis frecuentes suplicas PREFACE and since there are as* many variations of detail as there are ad- mirers and hence promulgators of his verses, it is next to impossible to decide exactly what Oquendc wrote. In such cases I have had to be arbitrary, selecting the reading which seemed most likely, and hoping for the best.

In dealing with printed sources I have followed the spelling, accentuation and punctuation of the originals. Conventions vary considerably from country to country, and even individual poets are not always consistent; but unless a variation could be estab- lished clearly as a printer's error, I have preferred to follow it even at the risk of violating the author's intention. Obvious misprints have been corrected.

IV

MY indebtedness is almost beyond measure. Like everyone who has investigated this subject, I have found stimulation and encour- agement in the critical and historical works of Prof. Federico de Onis, Prof. Arturo Torres-Rioseco, Dr. Estuardo Nunez, and Dr. Luis Alberto Sanchez. I have been fortunate also in the courtesies extended me by the libraries of Congress, of Harvard College, of Columbia University, and of the Pan American Union. I owe particular thanks to Mr. Dudley Poore, who made and translated the selection of Brazilian poems; and to Mr. H. R. Hays, not only for writing the Notes, but also for providing me gener- ously with texts and translations. Only one who has tried to carry on an international literary correspondence in time of war can ap- preciate how much of this book belongs to Mr. Diomedes de Pereyra, whose tireless zeal kept me supplied with material from all over Latin America as well as from libraries and private sources in Washington and New York, and whose friendly advice has meant more to me than I can say. I am similarly indebted to Mrs. Muna Lee de Munoz Marin for her kindness in making available to me many works which otherwise I should have been unable to consult, for her rare sympathy and critical acumen, and for her signal generosity in making translations. Mr. Angel Flores, of the Pan American Union, has contributed numberless suggestions throughout the making of the book, and has responded with un- I the bene- failing courtesy to my many appeals for help. have had PROLOG O

con la critlca ha hecho de ayuda. He sido agraclado prudente que de su en la de todo el texto ingles el Sr. John Peak Bishop, y ayuda revision de muchas de las traducciones mas dificiles, Y le agradezco en su al Sr, Langston Hughes su generosidad compartir conmigo fino interes creador en la poesia de la cual ha sido por mucho al Dr. de la Uni~ tiempo interprete sopremo; Jose Juan Arrom, la Universidad de versidad de Yale, y al Dr. Guillermo Rivera, de en la clarification de Harvard, sus generosos y eruditos consejos a la Dra. Edith F. de Simmons varies pasajes trabajosos; Helman, de la Biblioteca Publica de Bos- College, al Sr. E. B. Tewksbury, al Sr. Francisco ton, y a la Sra. Concha Romero James y Aguilera, de la Union Panamerkana, sus servicios entusiasticos y eficaces; al de Sr. Ralph Osborne, su ayuda en establecer los puntos dudosos los textos haitianos; a los doctores Raul d'Eja y Bettencourt Ma- chado, y a M. Rulx Leon, sus consejos expertos en las secciones brasilena y haitiana, respectivamente; al Sr. Enrique Gonzalez Martinez, su bondad en permitirme el uso de su soneto: Tuercele el cuello al dsne, como epigrafe del libro; a mis colegas el Dr. Carl Friedrich Pfatteicher, el Dr. James H. Grew, y el Sr. Joseph Staples, y al Teniente M. B. Davis, U. S. N. R., sus innumerables favores. Tambien doy gracias por su inestimable cooperacion al Sr. Jorge Carrera Andrade, Consul General del Ecuador en San Francisco; al Sr. Bernardo Ortiz de Montellano, mi mentor literario en lo mexicano desde hace ya mas de diez ainos; y a los poetas peruanos Rafael Mendez Dorich y Emilio Adolfo von Westphalen. Para mi amigo y antiguo colega el Sr. Donald Walsh mi deuda es inexpresable. No solo ha hecho gran parte de las traducciones: me ha ayudado pacientemente en la revision final del libro entero y ha leido y corregido las pruebas conmigo. Durante toda la em- presa, ha cornprobado cuidadosamente los puntos dudosos, cotc- jando textos y adquiriendo datos bibliograficos. Cualquier merito que cobre esta antologia se debera en gran parte a su eruclicion e inteligencia. Por ultimo, mi mas profunda gratitud a Cornelia, mi esposa mejor critico, guia mas infalible, y oyente mas tolerante. DUDLEY FITTS PHILLIPS ACADEMY ANBOVER, MASSACHUSETTS JULIO m 1942 PREFACE fit of Mr. John Peale Bishop's careful criticism of the entire English text, and his assistance in the revision of several of the more diffi- cult translations. And I am obligated to Mr. Langston Hughes for his unselfishness in sharing with me his fine creative interest in the poetry of which he has long been an outstanding interpreter; to Dr. Jose Juan Arrom, of Yale University, and to Prof. Guillermo Rivera, of Harvard University, for their generous and scholarly advice in the clarification of various knotty passages; to Dr. Edith F. Helman, of Simmons College, to Mr, E, B. Tewksbury, of the Boston Public Library, and to Mrs. Concha Romero James and Mr. Francisco Aguilera, of the Pan American Union, for their enthusi- astic and effective services; to Mr. Ralph Osborne, for help in the establishment of uncertain points in the Haitian texts; to Dr. Raul d'E^a and Sr. Bettencourt Machado, and to M. Rulx Leon, for their expert advice in the Brazilian and Haitian sections respec- tively; to Sr. Enrique Gonzalez Martinez, for graciously per- mitting me to use his sonnet on the Swan as epigraph for the book; to my colleagues Dr. Carl Friedrich Pfatteicher, Dr. James H. Grew and Mr. Joseph Staples, and to Lieut. M. B. Davis, U. S. N. R., for innumerable kindnesses. I am grateful also for the invaluable cooperation of Sr. Jorge Carrera Andrade, Consul General of Ecuador in San Francisco; of Sr. Bernardo Ortiz de Montellano, my Mexican literary mentor of more than ten years' standing; and of Sr. Rafael Mendez Dorich and Sr. Emilio Adolfo von Westphalen, both of Peru. To my friend and former colleague Mr. Donald Walsh I am indebted for more than I can say. Not only did he make the greater number of the translations: he patiently helped me in the final revision of the entire book and read all the proof with me. Through- out the undertaking he was carefully checking doubtful points, It to his collating texts, and acquiring bibliographical data. is scholarly intelligence that this anthology owes much of whatever merit it may possess. My final and profoundest gratitude goes to Cornelia Fitts, my wife best critic, surest guide, and most tolerant audience. DUDLEY FITTS PHILLIPS ACADEMY ANDOVER, MASSACHUSETTS JULY 1942 ANTOLOGIA BE LA POESIA

AMERICANA C O N TE M P O R A N E A JORGE CARRERA ANDRADE

&

EL almendro se compra un vestido para hacer la primera comunlon. Los gorriones anuncian en las puertas su verde mercancia. La primavera ya ha vendido todas sus ropas blancas,* sus caretas de enero, y solo se ocupa de llevar hoy dia soplos de propaganda por todos los rincones.

Juncos de vidrio. Frascos de perfume volcados. Alfotnbras para que anden los ninos de la escuela. Canastillos. Bastones de los cerezos. Guantes muy holgados del pato del estanque, Garza: sombrilla que vuela!

Maquina de escribir de la brisa en las hojas, oloroso inventario. Acudid al escaparate de la noche: cruz de diamantes3 linternitas rojas y de piedras preciosas un rosario.

Mar^o ha prendido luces en la hierba y el viejo abeto inutil se ha puesto anteojos verdes. Hara la primavera, despues de algunos meses, un pedido de tarros de frutas en conserva, uvas glandulas de cristal duke y hojas doradas para empacar la tristeza.

AHORCADAS en la viga del techo con sus alas de canarlo las mazorcas.

Conejillos de Indias enganan al silencio analfabeto con chillidos de pajaro y arrullos de paloma. JORGE CARRERA ANDRADE

& co. THE almond tree has bought herself a dress to make her first communion, and sparrows in doorways are advertising their green wares. Now Spring has sold all her white clothes, her January masks, and busies herself today only with carrying puffs of propaganda into every quarter.

Reeds of glass. Flasks of spilt perfume. Flowered carpets laid for schoolchildren. Small baskets. Forked poles of the cherry trees. Over-size gloves of the duck from the pond. Heron : flying parasol i

Typewriter of breeze in the leaves, sweet-scented inventory. Come, see the show-window of the night: cross of diamonds, little red lanterns, and a rosary of precious stones.

March has lighted its fires in the grass and the useless old fir tree has put on green goggles. Spring, within a few months, will make out an order for jars of fruit conserve,

grapes little bulbs of sweet crystal , and dry golden leaves in which to pack up distress, R, O'C.

CORN hangs from the rafters by its canary wings.

Little guinea-pigs bewilder the illiterate silence with sparrow twitter and dove coo. JORGE CARRERA ANDRADE

Hay en la choza una muda carrera cuando el viento empuja la puerta.

La montana brava lia abierto su oscuro paraguas de nubes con varillas de rayos.

El Francisco, el Martin, el Juan : trabajando en la hacienda del cerro les habra cogido el temporal.

Un aguacero de pajaros cae chillando en los sembrados.

IGLESIA frutera sentada en una esquina de la vida : naranjas de cristal de las ventanas. Organo de cafias de azucar.

Angeles: polluelos de la Madre Maria.

La campanilla de ojos azules sale con los pies descalzos a corretear por el campo.

Reloj deSol; burro angelical con su sexo inocente ; viento buen mozo del domingo que trae noticias del cerro; indias con su carga de legumbres abrazada a la frente. JORGE CARRERA ANDRADE

There is a mute race through the hut when the wind pushes against the door.

The angry mountain raises its dark umbrella of cloud lightning-ribbed.

Francisco, Martin, Juan working in the farm on the hill must have been caught by the storm,

A downpour of birds falls chirping on the sown fields.

FRUIT-VENDER church,

seated at a corner of life : crystal oranges of windows. Organ of sugarcane stalks.

Angels: chicks of Mother Mary,

The little blue-eyed bell runs out barefoot to scamper over the countryside.

Clock of the Sun; angelical donkey with its innocent sex; handsome Sunday wind bringing news from the hill ; \ Indian women with their vegetable-loads bound to their foreheads. JORGE CARRERA ANDRADE

El cielo pone los ojos en bianco cuando sale corriendo de la iglesia la campamlla de los pies descalzos.

JML

CONEjo : tiermano tirnido, mi maestro y filosofo! Tu vlda me ha ensenado la leccion del silencio* Como en la soledad hallas tu rnina de oro no te Importa la eterna marcha del universe.

Pequeno buscador de la sabiduria, hojeas como un libro la col humilde y buena, y observas las maniobras que hacen las golondrina< como San Simeon,, desde tu oscura cueva.

Pidele atu buen Dios una huerta en el cielo, una huerta con coles de cristal en la gloria, un salto de agua duke para tu hocico tierno y sobre tu cabeza un vuelo de palomas.

Tu vives enolor de santidad perfecta. Te tocara el cordon del padre San Francisco el dia de tu muerte. Con tus j largas orejas

jugaran en el cielo las almas de los ninos 1

mm

EN un cuerno vacio de toro soplo el Juan el mensaje de la cebada lista.

En sus casas de barro las siete familias echaron un zumo de sol

en las morenas vasijas. 6 JORGE CARRERA ANDRADE

The sky rolls up its eyes when the little barefoot bell comes scampering out of the church. M.L. THE PERFECT LIFE

RABBIT: timid brother! My teacher and philosopher! Your life has taught me the lesson of silence* For since in solitude you find your mine of gold, the world's eternal onward march means nothing to you.

Tiny seeker after wisdom, you leaf, as through a^book, the good and humble cabbage; and like Saint Simeon, from your dark hole you watch the evolutions of the swallows.

Ask your good God for a garden in Heaven, a garden with crystal cabbages in glory, a spring of fresh water for your tender nose, and a flight of doves above your head.

YouJive in the odour of perfect sanctity. The cincture of Father Saint Francis will touch you on the day of your death. And in Heaven the souls of children will play with your long ears ! D.F.

REAPI1VG THE BARLEY

ON a bull's hollow horn Juan blew the message that the barley was ready.

In their clay huts the seven families poured the sun-juice into brown*ars. JORGE CARRERA ANDRADE

La loma estaba sentada en el campo con su poncho a cuadros.

El Colorado, el verde, el amarillo empezaron a subir por el camino.

Entre un motin de colores se abatian sonando las cebadas de luz diezmadas por las hoces.

La Tomasa pesaba la madurez del cielo en la balanza de sus brazos tornasoles.

Le moldeaba sin prisa la cintura el giro lento del campo.

Hombres y mujeres de las siete familias, sentados en lo tierno del oro meridiano, bebieron un zumo de sol

en las vasijas de barro.

MA LLOV1DO P0R JLA N0CME

HA llovido por la noche : las peras estan en tierra y las coles se han quedado postradas como abadesas.

Todas estas cosas dice sobjBe la ventana el pajaro. El pajaro es el periodico de la manana en el campo.

Afuera ! j preocupaciones Dejemos la cama tibia. Esta lluvia le ha lavado como a una col, a la vida. JORGE CARRERA ANDRADE

The hill squatted in'the field wrapped in a plaid poncho.

Red, green, yellow dresses began to climb the road.

Amid a riot of colours the glowing barley sheaves went down with a swish, decimated by the sickles.

Tomasa weighed the ripeness of the sky in the scales of her sunflower arms.

The slow swing of the field molded the shape of her waist.

Men and women of the seven families, seated in the tender noon-day gold, drank sun-juice from the clay jars. M.L.

IT RAI1VE7D IJV THE MIGHT

IT rained in the night there are pears on the ground. Prostrate as abbesses the cabbages lie round.

From, the bird at the window there's all this to be heard. Out here in the country our newspaper's the bird.

Goodbye to worries! Let's leave the lazy bed. Rain has washed life as clean as a cabbage-head. M.L. 9 JORGE CARRERA ANDRADE

JEJL

la gran puerta negra de la noche dan doce aldabonazos.

Los hombres se incorporan : con su escama de hielo les roza el sobresalto.

sera ? las cj Qulen Por casas anda el miedo descalzo.

Los hombres ven su lampara apagarse al clamor de los aldabonazos :

llama el huesped desconocido, y una llamita azul les corre entre los parpados.

JESfJEJFO

GDANDO olvidan las cosas su forma y su color y, acosados de noche,, los muros se repliegan y todo se arrodilla, o cede o se confunde, solo tu estas de pie, luminosa presencia.

Impones a las sombras tu clara voluntad. En lo oscuro destella tu mineral silencio. Como palomas subitas a las cosas envias tus mensajes secretos.

Cada silla se alarga en la noche y espera un invitado irreal ante un plato de sombra, y solo tu, testigo transparente, una leccion de luz repites de memoria. JORGE CARRERA ANDRADE

I2I7E&T

AGAINST the huge black door o the night twelve knocks resound.

Men sit up in their beds : fear glides over them with icy scales.

Who can it be ? Through the houses fear slips unsandalled.

Men see the flame of their lamps blown out by the clamorous knocking:

the unknown guest is calling, and a thin blue flame runs along their eyelids. M.L.

VOCATION OF TME MIBfSOK

WHEN things forget their form and their colour, and, beset by night, the walls fold up, and everything kneels or withdraws or is confused, you alone stay erect, luminous presence.

Your clear resolution dominates the shadows, in the darkness shimmers your mineral silence; like sudden doves you send your secret messages to things.

Every chair is elongated in the night and awaits an unreal guest before a plate of shadow, and only you, transparent witness, repeat by rote a lesson of light. M.L. JORGE CARRERA ANDRADE

CHIMENEAS de sombreros alados, torcidas chimeneaSj parentesis de campo en la ciudad, gargantas por donde sube triste la cancion de las cosas : la cancion familiar de la marmita, del grille y el fogon en la oscura cocina, la cancion de la silla de ruedas y hasta el rumor monjil que hacen las puertas.

Chimeneas hostiles como armas j del odio de la urbe contra el azul que canta !

Humo sobre los techos : silenciosos I disparos contra el vuelo celeste de los pajaros !

Bah. ! Subid hasta el los I cielo, apuntad gorriones,

dejad la tierra oscura de los hombres '. . . Mi alma tambien es una chimenea en que arde la cancion de las vidas pequenas, chimenea de hollin que escupe, dia a dia, un humo triste y denso sobre el bianco papel del tomo inedito.

JLA CAMPANA1*A BJE JLA I72VA

DESDE la oscura torre que es un mastil de barco la campanada de la una baja en la noche como el cuerpo de un ahogado.

En la negra pizarra escribe su palote la campanada de la una. Casas de ojos vidriosos bucean en la noche.

El rabo entre las piernas, los vagabundos perros a la campanada de la una le ladran como a un muerto. JORGE CARRERA ANDRADE

CHIMNEYS with widebrimmed hats, twisted chimneys, parentheses of country in the city, throats through which the song of things mounts sadly : the homely song of the kettle, of the cricket and the hearth in the dark kitchen, the song of the castered chair, and even the monkish sound that doors make.

Hostile chimneys like weapons of urban hatred against the singing blue!

Smoke above the roofs : silent gunfire against the birds' celestial flight!

Bah! Mount up to the sky, aim at the sparrows, leave the dark earth of men . . . My soul too is a chimney where burns the song of little lives, a sooty chimney that spits forth, day after day, a sad dense smoke upon the white pages of the unpublished volume. D. D. W. STROKE OF ONE

FROM the dark tower which is a ship's mast the stroke of One like of slips down through the night the body one drowned.

On the blackboard the stroke of One inscribes its scrawl. Glassy-eyed houses dive into the night.

Tails between their legs, the prowling dogs howl at the stroke of One as at a dead man. M.L. 13 JORGE CARRERA ANDRADE

CON la fruta en conserva de tu voz sube hasta el quinto piso el cubo de cristal del ascensor.

El tren subterraneo lleva la luz naranja de tu piel par los tuneles anchos.

El omnibus derrarna en la avenida sus pestanas de trigo bajo la hoz esmeralda de tus ojos.

Cuaderno de vidrlo, la puerta giratoria muestra el ex-libris de tu cuerpo en la ultima hoja.

VJHML mm MI

OIGO en torno de mi tu conocido paso, tu andar de nube o lento rio, tu presencia imponiendo, tu humilde majestad visitandome, subdito de tu eterno dominio,

Sobre un palido tiempo inolvidable, sobre verdes familiaSj de bruces en la tierra., sobre trajes vacios y baules de llanto^ sobre un pais de lluvia, calladamente reinas.

Caminas en insectos y en hongos, y tus leyes por mi rnano se cumplen cada dia y tu voz, por mi boca, furtiva se resbala ablandando mi voz de metal y ceniza.

14 JORGE CARRERA ANDRADE

JKXARIB VON

WITH the preserved fruit of your voice the elevator's crystal cage mounts to the fifth floor.

The subway train bears the orange light of your skin through wide tunnels.

The omnibus scatters along the avenue its wheaten lashes before the emerald sickle of your eyes.

A glass pamphlet., the revolving door reveals your body's Ex-Libris on the last page. M.L.

UTFE OF MY MO3TMJSM

I HEAR your familiar footsteps all about me, your pace like a cloud's or a slow river's, your presence making itself felt: your humble majesty visiting me, subject of your eternal dominion.

Over a pale unforgettable time, over green families prostrate on the ground, over empty dresses and trunkfuls of weeping, over a land of rain, you rule silently.

You walk in insects and in toadstools, your laws are executed by my hand every day, and your voice slips furtively through my mouth softening the metal and ash of my voice. JORGE CARRERA ANDRADE

Brujula de mi larga travesia terrestre. Origen de mi sangre, fuente de mi destino. Cuando el polvo sin faz te escondio en su guarida, me desperte asombrado de encontrarme aun vivo.

Y quise echar abajo las invisibles puertas y di vueltas en vano, prisionero. Con cuerda de sollozos me ahorque sin ventura y atravese, llamandote, los pantanos del sueno.

Mas te encuentras viviendo en torno mio. Te siento mansamente respirando en esas dulces cosas que me miran en un orden celeste dispuestas por tu mano. Ocupas en su anchura el sol de la manana y con tu acostumbrada solicitud me arropas en su manta sin peso, de alta lumbre, aun fria de gallos y de sombras.

Mides el silbo liquido de insectos y de pajaros la dulzura entregandome del mundo y tus tiernas senales van guiandome, mi soledad llenando con tu lenguaje oculto.

Te encuentras en mis actos, habitas mis silencios. Por encima de mi hombro tu mandato me dictas cuando la noche sorbe los colores y llena el hueco espacio tu presencia infinita.

Oigo dentro de mi tus palabras profeticas y la vigilia entera me acompaSas sucesos avisandome, claves incomprensibles^ nacimientos de estrellas, edades de las plantas.

Moradora del cielo, vive, vive sin afios. Mi sangre original, mi luz primera. Que tu vida inmortal alentando en las cosas en vasto coro simple me rodee y sostenga.

16 JORGE CARRERA ANDRADE

Compass of my long earthly voyage. Origin of my blood, source of my destiny. When the featureless dust hid you in its lair I woke astonished to find myself still alive.

And I tried to tear down the invisible doors, and vainly, a prisoner, I prowled about them. I hanged myself haplessly with a rope of sobs, and calling on you, traversed the marshes of dream.

But you are here, living, all about me. I am aware of you breathing gently through those sweet things that gaze upon me in heavenly order, ranged by your hand.

You inhabit the breadth of the morning sunlight and with your accustomed care enfold me in its weightless mantle of lofty light still chilly with cocks and shadows.

You measure the liquid chirrup of insects and birds making me a gift of the sweetness of earth, and your tender signals keep guiding me, my solitude filled with your hidden speech. You are in all that I do, you inhabit my silence. Yours is the mandate that stands at my shoulder when night drinks up the colours and your infinite presence fills hollow space,

I hear within me your prophetic words, and throughout the vigil you companion me, warning of things to come, incomprehensible keys, births of stars, ages of the plants.

Dweller in the skies, live, live without years. My original blood, my earliest light. May your immortal life, breathing through all things in vast simple chorus, surround and sustain me! M.L. 17 JORGE CARRERA ANDRADE

IMS F*A$AROS

NACI en el siglo de la defuncion de la rosa cuando el motor ya habia ahuyentado a los angele* Quito vela andar la ultima diligencia y a su paso corrian en buen orden los arboles, las cercas y las casas de las nuevas parroquias, en el umbral del campo donde las lentas vacas rumiaban el silencio y el viento espoleaba sus ligeros caballos.

Mi madre, revestida de poniente, guardo su juventud en una honda guitarra y solo algunas tardes la mostraba a sus hijos envuelta entre la musica, la luz y las palabras. Yo amaba la hidrografia de la lluvia, las amarillas pulgas del manzano y los sapos que hacian sonar dos o tres veces su gordo cascabel de palo.

Sin cesar maniobraba la gran vela del aire. Era la cordillera un literal del cielo. La tempestad venia, y al batir del tambor

cargaban sus moj ados regimientos; mas, luego el sol con sus patrullas de oro restauraba la paz agraria y transparente.

Yo veia a los ttombres abrazar la cebada, sumergirse en el cielo unos jinetes y bajar a la costa olorosa de mangos los vagones cargados de mugidores bueyes.

El valle estaba alia con sus haciendas donde prendia el alba su reguero de gallos, y al oeste la tierra donde ondeaba la cana de azucar su pacifico banderin, y el cacao 18 JORGE CARRERA ANDRADE

JF0H THJE US F TME BIRDS

I WAS born in the century of the death of the rose when the motor had already driven out the angels. Quito watched the last stagecoach roll., and at its passing the trees ran by in good order, and the hedges and houses of the new parishes, on the threshold of the country where slow cows were ruminating the silence and the wind spurred its swift horses.

My mother, clothed in the setting sun, put away her youth in a deep guitar, and only on certain evenings would she show it to her children, sheathed in music, light, and words. I loved the water-writing of the rain, the yellow gnats from the apple tree, and the toads that would sound from time to time their bulging wooden bells.

The great sail of the air maneuvered endlessly. The mountain range was a shoreline of the sky. The storm would come, and at the roll of its drum its drenched regiments would charge; but then the sun with its golden patrols would bring back translucent peace to the fields.

I would watch men clasp the barley, horsemen sink into the sky, and the wagons filled with lowing oxen go down to the coast fragrant with mangoes.

The valley was there with its farms where dawn touched off its trickle of roosters, and westward was the land where the sugarcane rippled its peaceful banner, and the cacao

19 JORGE CARRERA ANDRADE guardaba en un estuche su fortuna secreta., y ceman, la pina su coraxa de olor^ la banana desnuda su tunica de seda.

Todo lia pasado ya, en sucesivo oleaje, como las vanas cifras de la espuma. Los anos van sin prisa enredando sus liquenes y el recuerdo es apenas un nenufar que asoma entre dos aguas su rostro de aliogado. La guitarra es tan solo ataud de canciones y se lamenta herido en la cabeza el gallo. Han emigrado todos los angeles terrestres, hasta el angel moreno del cacao. JORGE CARRERA ANDRADE held close in a coffer its secret fortune, and the pineapple girded on its fragrant cuirasse, the naked banana its tunic o silk.

All has gone now, in sequent waves, like the futile cyphers of the foam. The years go leisurely entangling their lichens, and memory is scarcely a water-lily showing on the surface timidly its drowned face. The guitar is only a coffin for songs, and die head-wounded cock laments. All the angels of the earth have emigrated, even the dark angel of the cacao tree. D. D. w.

Ski JOSE GOROSTIZA

ACT/AMI

Los PECES de colores juegan donde cantaba Jenny Lind.

Jenny era casi una nina por 1840, pero tenia un glu-glu de agua embelesada en la piscina eterea de su canto-

New York era pequeno entonces. Las casitas de cuatro pisos debian de secar la ropa recien lavada sobre los tendederos azules de la madrugada.

Iremos a Battery Place aqui, tan cerca a recibir saludos de panuelo que nos dirigen los barcos de vela.

Y las sonrisas luminosas de las cinco de la tarde, oh, si darian un brillo de luciernaga a las calles.

Luego, cuando el iris del faro ponga a tiro de piedra el horizonte, tendremos pesca de luces blancas, amarillas,, rojas, para olvidarnos de Broadway. JOSE GOROSTIZA

THE goldfish play where Jenny Lind once sang.

Jenny was almost a child back in 1840,, but she had a gurgle of enraptured water in the celestial fish-pond of her song.

New York was little then. The small fourstoried houses had to dry their new-washed clothes on the azure clothes-horse of the early morning.

"We shall go to Battery Place so close at hand to be greeted by the handkerchiefs that the sailboats wave to us.

And the luminous smiles of five in the afternoon, oh., they would give a firefly lustre to the streets.

Then,, when the beam of the lighthouse brings the horizon within stone's throw., we shall have a catch of white, yellow, red lights, to forget about Broadway. 23 JOSE GOROSTIZA

Porque Jenny Lind era como el agua reida de burbujas en que los peces de colores juegan.

JPOJUKE? UN" anciano consume su tabaco en la vieja cachimba de nogaL La tarde es solamente un cielo opaco y el recuerdo amarillo de un rosaL

El anciano dormita. . , Es tan triste la tarde para ver un reloj descompuesto, y la infinita crueldad de un calendario con la fecha de aye:

Y silencio, un silencio propicio para remorar como canta una boca la lectura de la antigua conseja familiar.

En el fino paisaje se depura una tristeza del atardecer, y el reloj descompuesto parece una dolida conciencia de caoba en la pared,

Una pobre conciencia,, cuya charla con la vieja cachimba de nogal es el agrio murmullo de un postigo y el recuerdo amarillo del rosaL

DE mi ciudad sonora vine al pueblo de tibia somnolencia, donde saben a sal los labios de la aurora. JOSE GOROSTIZA

Because Jenny Lind was like the bubble-laughing water where goldfish play. n. r>. w.

A .TOOJFt JLOTTJUE? COTVSCfE1VCJE

old man takes his tobacco in an ancient walnut pipe. The afternoon is only a lightless sky and the yellow remembrance of a rosebush.

The old man dozes. . . Afternoon is so sad a time to see a run-down clock, and the infinite cruelty of a calendar with yesterday's date.

And silence, a silence propitious for dwelling again on lips that repeat the reading of the old familiar story.

Through the clear landscape filters a twilight sadness, and the run-down clock seems an aching mahogany conscience on the wall.

A poor little conscience, whose chatter with the old walnut pipe is the sour creaking of a shutter and the yellow remembrance of the rosebush. D. D. W. WOMJE2V

FROM my sonorous city I came to the sleepy warm town where the dawn's lips taste of salt. JOSE GOROSTIZA

Y traje una dolencia de mis valleSj ansiosos de marina transparencia.

Cruzaban las angostas cintas de las calles mujeres de aguzados senos y agilidad de musica en los talles.

Habia sol en los rostros morenos; dos agatas de luz en sus pupilas, y en sus labios melifluos los venenos,

En onduladas filas, eran como de calidas palomas por el limpio tejado de las montanas lilas.

Y sonaban en pomas paradisiacas de filtrado jugo, y en un idilio de los vientos con las aromas.

Al Senor Nuestro plugo darles lineas de copas transparentes, como se reza en Hugo.

Y secaron mis fuentes por esa gota languida de un beso en las finas copas de labios adolescentes.

Cordoba, cofre de mujeres, dulce embeleso: Les prometi la luz de un arrebol esa por gota languida de un beso. . .

Y me dieron el sol ! JOSE GOROSTIZA

And I brought an aching from my valleys, which long for the transparent sea.

There passed through the narrow ribbons of the streets women with pointed breasts and waists of agile music.

The sun was on their dark faces ; two agates of light in their eyes, and poison on their honeyed lips.

In undulant files., they were like warm doves on the clean roof of the lilac mountains.

And they dreamed of Paradise apples with filtered juice, an idyll of winds and sweet odours.

It pleased Our Lord to shape them like clear goblets, as in Hugo's prayer.

And my springs went dry for that languid taste of a kiss in the delicate cups of young lips.

Cordova, coffer of women, sweet ecstasy: I pledged them the red blush of dawn for their cheeks in return for that languid taste of a kiss. . .

And they gave me the sun ! D. D. W. EUGENIO FLORIT

WENA

YA entre nosotros, forma verdadera, pequefia realidad de sangre viva,, aun con el asombro, con la inquietud aun de no saber por que llegaste. (Y no habras de saberlo ya jamas aunque desplieguen a tu vista sus vuelos serafines, y Dios se f!e revele en una rosa, y en una tarde el mundo se te entregue.) lo sabras. No Y lloraras de pena? y reiras, y tendras el alma a flor de piel, y amaras unos ojos, y besaras labios de vida y muerte. Pero no lo sabras. Tu viaje aqui va dentro del misterio de las musicas que vuelan de astro en astro, de cielo en cielo, de corazon en corazon, Y viene tu pregunta hecha ya tu, con eso que nos faha a los que te miramos : la nube en dormiste que 3 tu sueno de molecula de luz, de rafaga fugaz de pensamiento. Porque te miro y me da miedo que me mires el alma empedernida, tu que la tienes fragil, pura, aerea, ^una llamita que sostiene apenas el ansia de mas viva llamarada. 28 EUGENIC FLORIT

THE

Now you are among us, you really exist, a tiny actuality of living blood, still with some amazement,

uneasy still, not knowing why you came. (And you will never know, although seraphs unfold their wings to your gaze, although God reveal Himself to you in a rose, and the whole world yield itself to you in one evening.) You will not know. And you will cry with grief, and laugh, and wear your soul for all to see, and love a pair of eyes, and kiss the lips of life and death. But you will not know. Your journey here is veiled in the mystery of music that flows from star to star, from sky to sky, from heart to heart. Your question comes in you incarnate, with things which we who watch you lack: the cloud you slept on, your dream as an atom of light, as a fleeting gleam of thought. For I look at you and am afraid to have you see my hardened soul, you whose soul is so fragile, airy, pure, a little flame that scarcely bears the yearning of more ardent fires.

29 EUGENIO FLORIT

Y cuando sepas que te vi duraiiendo, y, despierta, te quise preguntar el color de tu nube, la luz en que sonabas^ el pensamiento que eras en tu sueno, me lloraras a mi, que vivo este sueno de ausencia atormentada por volver a mi nube, a mi rayo de luz, a mi atorno de tierra: a mi definitiva presencia entre la nada.

A JLA MAMIP0SA MUERTA

Tu jubilo, en el vuelo; tu inquietud, en el aire; tu vida, al sol, al aire, al vuelo.

Que pequefia tu muerte bajo la luz de fuego vivo. Que serena la gracia de tus alas ya para siempre abiertas en el libra.

Y en ti, tan suave, en tu morir callado, en tu sueno sin suenos, cuanta ilusion perdida al aire, cuanto desesperado pensamiento.

EN LA WZJEi&TE &E ALGUIEN

AQUI esta, en la mirada vacia de paisajes y nubes; en la frente sin aun sombras, humeda por la Mgrima ajena en la boca seca, que dejo escapar el pajaro de la palabra; en este pecho hundido, EUGENIC FLORIT

And when you know that I watched you sleeping and longed to ask you, when you woke, the colour of your cloud, the light in which you dreamed., the thought you became in your sleep : you will weep for me, who live in this dream of absence, yearning to go back to my cloud, to my ray of light, to my atom of earth: to my permanent place in nothingness. D. D. W.

TO TMB BISAjS* BI7TTERFJLY

YOUR joy, in flight; your restlessness, in air; your life, of sun, of air, of flight.

How small your death beneath the light of living fire! How serene the grace of your wings now held for ever open in this book!

And in you, so soft, in your hushed dying, in your sleep without dreams, what magic lost into air, how much despairing thought ! R. O'C.

ON SOMEONE'S DEATH and HERE she is, in the gaze now empty of landscapes clouds;

in the unshadowed brow, still ^ - 1 * dih another's tear; in the dry mouth, which let tL bL d of speech escape; in this sunken breast,

3* EUGENIO FLORIT

en estas manos frias, donde estuvo hasta ayer un ademan de angustia y que ahora no sienten el peso de las horas negras. Aqui, en todo este cuerpo inmovil caido sobre el leclio, cruce de suspiros y palomas de rezos mecanicos. Aqui, y mas aim, en la alcoba cerrada, y en el rincon del sol amigo, y en el puesto en la mesa, donde olvidaron de quitar el plato. Y mas aun, debajo del sombrero, y escondida en los pliegues del panuelo, y hasta en la flor que se quedo en el libro. (Que pena, Senor, que pena. Era tan joven.) Alia lejos, se juntan dos palomas en vuelo.

tJE SAN SEBASTIAN

A Ricardo, mi hermano

venid a mis de hierro Sfy brazos, palomitas ; palomitas de hierro, a mi vientre desnudo. Que dolor de caricias agudas. Si, venid a morderme la sangre, a este pecho, a estas piernas, a la ardiente mejilla. Venid, que ya os recibe el alma entre los labios. S% para que tengais nido de carne, y semillas de huesos ateridos. Para que hundais el pico rojo en la haz de mis musculos.

Venid a mis ojos, que puedan ver la luz, a mis manos, que toquen forma imperecedera, a mis oidos, que se abran a las aereas musicas, a mi boca, que guste las mieles infinitas, a mi nariz, para el perfume de las eternas rosas. Venid, si, duros angeles de fuego, pequenos querubines de alas tensas. Si, venid, a soltarme las amarras para lanzarme al vzaje sin orillas.

32 EUGENIC FLORIT in these cold hands which until yesterday gestured in agony and which now do not feel the weight of the black hours. Here in all this inert body fallen upon the bed, crossroad of sighs and doves of mechanical prayers. Here, and even more: in the closed bedroom, and in the friendly sunny nook, and at the place at table where they forgot to remove the plate. And even more: under the hat,

and hidden in the handkerchiefs folds, and even in the flower left in the book.

(What a pity, Lord, what a pity. She was so young.) Away there in the distance, two doves join in flight. M.L.

THE MARTYRDOM OF SAINT SEBASTIAN

To Ricardo, my, brother

YES, come to my arms, little doves of iron; little doves of iron, to my naked belly. What sharp caressing pain. Yes, come to bite my blood, come to this breast, to these legs, to my burning cheek. for Come, my soul now welcomes you upon my lips. Yes, come that you may find a nest of flesh with seeds of cold-numbed bones. Come to sink your red beaks into the sheaf of my muscles. Come to my eyes, that they may see the light, to my hands, that they may touch undying form, to my ears, that they may "open to aerial music, to my mouth, that it may taste sweetness without end, to my nostrils, for the perfume of eternal roses. Come, yes, hard angels of fire, tiny cherubim with rigid wings. Yes, come, cast loose my cable to launch me on the shoreless voyage.

33 EUGENIO FLORIT

martirio. Ay !, que acero feliz, que piadoso iirio Ay !, punta de coral, aguila, de estremecidos petalos. Si. Tengo para vosotras, flechas, el corazon ardiente, pulso de anhelo, sienes indefensas. Venid, que esta mi frente ya limpia de metal para vuestra caricia.

Ya, que rio de tibias agujas celestiales! . . .

Que nieves me deslumbran el espiritu! . .

Venid I Una tan solo de vosotras, palomas, para que anide dentro de mi pecho

y me atraviese el alma con sus alas ! . . .

Senor, ya voy, por cauce de saetas ! . . . Solo una mas y quedare dormido. Este largo morir despedazado como me ausenta del dolor. Ya apenas el pico de estos buitres me lo siento . . .

falta . Que poco ya, Seiior, para mirarte! . . y mirare con ojos que vencieron las flech'as, y escuchare tu voz con oidos eternos, y al olor de tus rosas me estare como en extasis, y tocare con manos que nutrieron estas fieras palomas, tus y gustare mieles con los labios del alma! . . . Ya Senor. voy, Ay !, que sueno de soles, que camino de estrellas en mi sueiio . . . Ya se que llega mi ultima paloma Ay! Ya esta bien, Senor, que te la llevo hundida en un rincon de las entranas.

JBSTHOFAS A UNA ESTATZJA

MONUMENTO cefiido de un tiempo tan lejano de tu muerte. Asi te estas inmovil a la orilla de este sol que se uga en mariposas. 34 EUGENIC FLORIT

Ah what blissful steel, what compassionate agony I Ah, barb of coral., eagle, lily of quivering petals ! Yes, For you, arrows, my burning heart, ray eager pulse, my undefended temples. Come : now my forehead, freed from metal, awaits your caress. Ah, what a stream of warm celestial needles!

What a snowy brightness overwhelms my spirit ! Come ! Only one from among you, doves, to nestle in my breast and with those wings to penetrate my soul ! . . . Lord, I come ! By the way of channeling arrows ! . . . One more only, and I shall fall asleep. This long and piecemeal dying, how it sets me apart from pain ! And now I feel but faintly these vulture beaks . . .

How little the time, Lord, and I shall see Thy face ! and I shall see with eyes that have vanquished arrows, and hear Thy voice with ears that shall not die, and the scent of Thy roses will be my ecstasy, and I shall feel with hands that fed these fierce doves, and taste Thy honey with the lips of my very soul! . . . I come, Lord. Ah the sunlit dreaming, what a road of stars into my dream . . . I know now that my last dove comes . . . Ah! It is done, Lord, and I bring it Thee buried in a corner of my heart. D. D. W. STROPHES TO

MONUMENT girdled in a time so remote from your death. Thus you stand motionless on the shore of this sun which escapes into butterflies.

35 EUGENIC FLORIT

Tu, estatua blanca, rosa de alabastro, naciste para estar pura en la tierra con un dosel de ramas olorosas y la pupila ciega bajo el sol.

No has de sentir como la luz se muere sino por el color que en ti resbala y el frio que se prende a tus rodillas humedas del sllencio de la tarde.

Cuando en piedra moria la sonrisa quebro sus alas la dorada abeja y en el espacio eterno lleva el alma con recuerdo de mieles y de bocas.

Ya tu perfecta geometria sabe el el que es vano aire y timido rocio ; y como viene el mar sobre esa arena con el eco de tantos caracoles.

Beso de estrella, luz para tu frente de desnuda memorias y de lagrimas ; que firme superficie de alabastro donde ya no se suena.

Por la rama caida hasta tus hombros bajo el canto de un pajaro a besarte. Que serena ilusion tienes, estatua, de eternidad bajo la clara noche. EUGENIC FLORIT

You, white statue., alabastrine rose, were born to be on earth, pure, with a canopy of fragrant boughs and sightless pupils underneath the sky.

You will know how the light dies only by the colours that slip across you and in the cold that grips your knees damp from the evening silence.

"When your smile was dying into stone the golden bee broke out its wings and now' into eternal space bears your soul with a memory of honey and of mouths.

Now your perfect geometry knows that the air is empty and the dew is timid ; and how the sea comes over that sand with an echo of innumerable shells.

A star-kiss, light for your brow bare of memories and tears ; how firm the alabaster surface where there are no more dreams !

Down the branch bent above your shoulders a bird's song carried you a kiss. How unclouded, statue, is your illusion of eternity in the clearness of the night I zx D. w.

37 GABRIELA MISTRAL

JLA MAN!A

QUE mi dedito lo cogio una almeja, y que la almeja se cayo en la arena, y que la arena se la trago el mar. Y que del mar la pesco un ballenero y que el ballenero llego a Gibraltar; y que en Gibraltar cantan Pescadores : TSTovedad de tierra sacamos del mar,

novedad de un dedito de nina : la este j que manca lo venga a buscar 1*

Que me den un barco para ir a traerlo, y para el barco me den capitan, para el capitan que me den soldada, el y que por soldada pida la ciudad : Marsella con torres y plazas y barcos, de todo el mundo la mejor ciudad, que no sera hermosa con una ninita a la que robo su dedito el mar, y a que balleneros en pregones cantan y estan esperando sobre Gibraltar . . .

SENOR, tu sabes como, con encendido brio, por los seres extranos mi palabra te invoca. Vengo ahora a pedirte por uno que era mio, mi vaso de frescura, el panal de mi boca, 38 GABRIELA MISTRAL

THIS UTTJUE GImi; TMAT Z,OST A FTJVGJER

AND a clam caught my little finger, and the clam fell into the sand, and the sand was swallowed by the sea, and the whaler caught it in the sea, and the whaler arrived at Gibraltar, and in Gibraltar the fishermen sing: 'News o the earth we drag up from the sea, news of a little girl's finger: let her who lost it come get it!'

Give me a boat to go fetch it, and for the boat give me a captain, for the captain give me wages, and for his wages let him ask for the city: Marseilles with towers and squares and boats, in all the wide world the finest city, which won't be lovely with a litde girl that the sea robbed of her finger, and that whalers chant for like town criers, and that they're waiting for on Gibraltar . . . Af.r.

TME PRAYER

THOU knowest, Lord, with what flaming boldness, my word invokes Thy help for strangers. I come now to plead for one who was mine, my cup of freshness, honeycomb of my mouth,

39 GABRIELA MISTRAL

cal de mis huesos, dulce razon de la Jornada, gorjeo de mi oido, cenidor de mi veste. Me cuido hasta de aquellos en que no puse nada.

jNo tengas ojo torvo si te pido por este !

Te digo que era bueno, te digo que tenia el corazon entero a flor de pecho, que era

suave de indole^ franco como la luz del dia5 henchido de milagro como la primavera.

Me replicas, severo, que es de plegaria indigno el que no unto de preces sus dos labios febriles, y se ue aquella tarde sin esperar tu signo, trizandose las sienes como vasos sutiles.

Pero yo> mi Seiior, te arguyo que he tocado, de la misma manera que el nardo de su frente, todo su corazon dulce y atormentado

tenia la seda del naciente ! i y capullo

- 1 Que fue cruel ? Olvidas, Senor, que le querla, y que el sabia suya la entrana que llagaba. I Que enturbio para siempre mis linfas de alegria ? [No impqrta! Tu comprendes: jyo le amaba, le amaba!

Y amar (bien sabes de eso) es amargo ejercicio; un'mantener los parpados de lagrimas mojados, un refrescar $le besos las trenzas del cilicio conservando, bajo ellas, los ojos extasiados.

El hierro que taladra tiene un gustoso frio, cuando abre, cual gavillas, las carnes amorosas. Y la cruz (Tu'te acuerdas [oh Key de los judios!) se llexa co'nHandura, como un gajo de rosas. 40 GABRIELA MISTRAL lime of my bones, sweet reason of life's journey, bird-trill to my ears, girdle of my garment* Even those who are no part of me are in my care.

Harden not Thine eyes if I plead with Thee for this one !

He was a good man, I say he was a man whose heart was entirely open; a man gentle in temper, frank as the light of day, as filled with miracles as the spring of the year.

Thou answerest harshly that he is unworthy of entreaty who did not anoint with prayer his fevered lips, who went away that evening without waiting for Thy sign, his temples shattered like fragile goblets.

But I, my Lord, protest that I have touched, just like the spikenard of his brow, his whole gentle and tormented heart:

and it was silky as a nascent bud !

Thou sayest that he was cruel ? Thou forgettest, Lord, that I loved him, and that he knew my wounded heart was wholly his. He troubled for ever the waters of my gladness ? It does not matter! Thou knowest: I loved him, I loved him!

And to love (Thou knowest it well) is a bitter exercise; a pressing of eyelids wet with tears, a kissing-alive of hairshirt tresses, keeping, below them, the ecstatic eyes.

The piercing iron has a welcome chill, when it opens, like sheaves of grain, the loving flesh*

And the cross (Thou rememberest, O King of the Jews !) is softly borne, like a spray of roses. GABRIELA MISTRAL

Aqui me estoy, Senor, con la cara caida sobre el polvo, parlandote un crepusculo entero, o todos los creptisculos a que alcance la vida, si tardas en decirme la palabra que espero.

Fatigare tu oido de pieces y sollozos, lamiendoj lebrel timido, los bordes de tu manto, y ni pueden huirme tus ojos amorosos ni esquivar tu pie el riego caliente de mi llanto.

|Di el perdon, dilo al fin! Va a esparcir en el viento la palabra el perfume de cien pomos de olores al vaciarse; toda agua sera deslumbramiento; el yermo echara flor y el guijarro esplendores,

Se mojaran los ojos oscuros de las fieras, y, comprendiendo, el monte que de piedra forjaste llorara por los parpados blancos de sus neveras,

toda la tierra sabra ! j tuya que perdonaste

SVJMNO

A NINO tan dormido no me lo recordeis. Dormia asi en mi entrana con mucha dejadez.

Yo lo saque del suefio de todo su querer, y ahora se me ha vuelto a dormir otra vez

42 GABRIELA MISTRAL

Here I rest. Lord, my face bowed down to the dust, talking with Thee through the twilight, through all the twilights that may stretch through life, if Thou art long in telling me the word I await.

I shall weary Thine ears with prayers and sobs; a timid greyhound, I shall lick Thy mantle's hem, Thy loving eyes can not escape me, Thy foot avoid the hot rain of my tears.

Speak at last the word of pardon ! It will scatter in the wind the perfume of a hundred fragrant vials as it all waters will empties ; be dazzling; the wilderness will blossom, the cobblestones will sparkle.

The dark eyes of wild beasts will moisten, and the conscious mountain that Thou didst forge from ston will the white of its snowdrifts weep through eyelids ;

Thy whole earth will know that Thou hast forgiven !

DEEP SJLEEP

LET no one awaken This child so fast asleep. He sleeps as in my womb He lay once, heavy and deep.

From that comfortable rest

I wakened him to life. Now again on my breast He has fallen asleep.

43 GABRIELA MISTRAL

La frente esta parada y las sienes tambien. Los pies son dos almejas y los costados pez.

Rocio tendra el sueno que es humeda su sien. Tendra musica el sueno que le da su vaiven.

Resuello se le oye en agua de correr; pestafias se le mueven en hojas de laurel.

Les digo que lo dejen con tanto y tanto bien, hasta que se despierte de solo su querer

El sueno se lo ayudan el techo y el dintel, la Tierra que es Cibeles, la madre que es mujer,

A ver si yo le aprendo dormir que me olvide y se lo aprende tanta despierta cosa infiel.

Y nos vamos durmiendo como de su merced, de sobras de ese sueno, hasta el amanecer

44 GABRIELA MISTRAL

His forehead's pulse Has almost stilled its beat. O body of a small fish With two pink clams for feet!

In sleep a dew must fall Because his brow is wet; In sleep there must be music His limbs cannot forget.

Smooth as running water Stirs his quiet breath. His eyelids flutter Like a laurel leaf.

Do not say a word Until he awakens Of his own accord.

His sleep is sheltered

By the roof, the door, Simple things and human; The earth which is our mother, His mother who is woman.

In this quiet peace May I learn again The childhood sleep I lost,

Hunted for in vain ;

So to fall to rest Innocent and deep Using what is left Of his gift of sleep. K. G. a 45 GABRIELA MISTRAL

mos LA tierra se hace madrastra

si tu alma vende a mi alma. Llevan un escalofrio de tribulacion las aguas. El mundo fue mas hermoso desde que me hiciste aliada, cuando junto de un espino nos quedamos sin palabras, el amor como el I y espino nos traspaso de fragrancia!

Pero te va a brotar viboras

si la tierra vendes mi alma ; baldias del hijo, rompo mis rodillas desoladas. Se apaga Cristo en mi pecho la j y puerta de mi casa quiebra la mano al mendigo

y avienta a la atribulada !

Beso que tu boca entregue a mis oidos alcanza, porque las grutas profundas me devuelven tus palabras. El polvo de los senderos guarda el olor de tus plantas y oteandolas como un ciervo, te sigo por las montanas____

A la que tu ames, las nubes la pintan sobre mi casa. Ve cual ladron a besarla de la tierra en las entranas, que, cuando el rostro le alces, hallas mi cara con lagrimas. 46 GABRIELA MISTRAL

6?OB WILLS IT

THE very earth will disown you If your soul barter my soul; In angry tribulation The waters will tremble and rise. My world became more beautiful Since the day you took me to you, When, under the flowering thorn tree Together we stood without words. And love, like the heavy fragrance Of the flowering thorn tree, pierced us.

The earth will vomit forth snakes

If ever you barter my soul ! Barren of your child, and empty I rock my desolate knees. Christ in my breast will be crushed, And the charitable door of my house Will break the wrist of the beggar,

And repulse the woman in sorrow.

The kiss your mouth gives another Will echo within my ear, As the deep surrounding caverns Bring back your words to me. Even the dust of the highway Keeps the scent of your footprints. I track them, and like a deer Follow you into the mountains.

Clouds will paint over my dwelling The image of your new love. Go to her like a thief, crawling In the boweled earth to kiss her. When you lift her face you will find My face disfigured with weeping. 47 GABRIELA MISTRAL

Dios no quiere que tu tengas sol si conmigo no marchas ; Dios no quiere que tu bebas si yo no tiemblo en tu agua; no consiente que tu duermas sino en mi trenza ahuecada.

Si te vas, hasta en los musgos del camino rompes mi alma; te muerden la sed y el harnbre en todo monte o llanada y en cualquier pais las tardes con sangre seran mis llagas. Y destilo de tu lengua aunque a otra mujer llamaras, y me clavo como un dejo de salmuera en tu garganta; y odies, o cantes, o ansies,

mi solamente ! I por clamas

Si te vas y mueres lejos, trendras la mano ahuecada diez afios bajo la tierra para recibir mis lagrimas, sintiendo como te tiemblan las carnes atribuladas, hasta te j que espolvoreen mis huesos sobre la cara! GABRIELA MISTRAL

God will not give you the light Unless you walk by my side. God will not let you drink

If I do not tremble in the water.

He will not let you sleep Except in the hollow of my hair,

If you go, you destroy my soul As you trample the weeds by the roadside. Hunger and thirst will gnaw you, the or the Crossing heights plains ;

And wherever you are, you will watch The evenings bleed with my wounds. When you call another woman I will issue forth on your tongue, Even as a taste of salt

Deep in the roots of your throat.

In hating, or singing, in yearning It is me alone you summon.

If you go, and die far from me

Ten years your hand will be waiting Hollowed under the earth

To gather the drip of my tears. And you will feel the trembling Of your corrupted flesh, Until my bones are powdered Into the dust on your face. K.G.C.

49 ALFONSO REYES

VERACRUZ La vecindad del mar queda abolida: basta saber que nos guardan las espaldas, que hay una ventana inmensa y verde por donde echarse a nado. LA HABANA No es Cuba, donde el mar disuelve el alma. No es Cuba que minca vio Gauguin, que nunca vio Picasso donde negros vestidos de amarillo y de guinda rondan el malecon, entre dos luces, y los ojos vencidos no disimulan ya los pensamientos.

No es Cuba la que nunca vio Stravinsky concertar sones de marimbas y giiiros en el entierro de Papa Montero, nanigo de baston y canalla rumbero.*

No es Cuba donde el yanqui colonial se cura del bochorno sorbiendo granizados de brisa, en las terrazas del reparto; donde la policfa desinfecta el aguijon de los mosquitos ultimos que zumban todavia en espanol. * Veanse pag. 190 y 258. 50 ALFONSO REYES

GUJLF OF MEXICO

VERA CRUZ

The neighbourhood of the sea is abolished : it's enough to know that its protection lies behind us, that there's a window, huge and green, through which we can go for a swim.

HAVANA Not Cuba, where the sea dissolves the soul. Not Cuba which Gauguin never saw, Picasso never saw where negroes clothed in yellow and cherry red haunt the docks at twilight, their conquered eyes no longer hiding thoughts.

Not Cuba which Stravinsky never saw harmonizing sons with marimba and gourd for the burial of Papa Montero, cane-swinging ndnigo and rumba-stepping fool.*

Not Cuba where the Yankee colonial recovers from the scorcher by sucking down sherberts of fresh breeze on suburban terraces, and where the police disinfect the stings of the last remaining mosquitoes that still buzz in Spanish, * See pages 191 and 259. ALFONSO REYES

No es Cuba donde el mar se transparenta para que no se pierdan los despojos del Maine,, y un contratista revolucionario tine de bianco el aire de la tarde, abanicando con sonrisa veterana, desde su mecedora, la fragancia de los cocos y mangos aduaneros.

VERACRUZ

No : aqui la tierra triunfa y manda caldo de tiburones a sus pies. Y entre arrecifes, ultimas cumbres de la Atlantida, las esponjas de algas venenosas manchan de bilis verde;, que se torna violeta, los lejos donde el mar cuelga del aire.

Basta saber que nos guardan las espaldas: la ciudad solo abre hacia la costa sus puertas de servicio.

En el aburridero de los muelles,

los mozos de cordel no son maritimos : cargan en la bandeja del sombrero sol un de campo adentro : hombres color de hombre, que el sudor emparienta con el asno y el equilibrio jarocho de los bustos, al peso de las civicas pistolas.

Heron Proal, con manos juntas y ojos bajos, siembra la clerical cruzada de inquilinos ; y las bandas de funcionarios en camisa sujetan el desborde de sus panzas con relumbrantes dentaduras de balas,

52 ALFONSO REYES

Not Cuba where the sea shows clear to so as not lose the wreckage of the Maine> and a revolutionist subcontractor whitens the afternoon air, fanning, with a veteran smile from his rocking-chair, the sweet scent of the customs-house coconuts and mangoes.

VERA CRUZ

No : here the earth triumphs and commands shark broth at its feet. And among reefs, the last peaks of Atlantis, the poisonous algae-sponges stain with green bile turning violet the far reaches where the sea hangs from the air.

It's enough to know that its protection lies behind us : only towards the coast does the city open its service entrances.

On the boredom of the docks

the porters are landlubbers : on the trays of their hats they carry an up-country sun : men man-coloured, whose sweat makes them cousins to the ass and the countryfied thrust of their chests, beneath the weight of civic horsepistols.

Heron Proal, hands joined, eyes downcast,

sows the tenants' clerical crusade ; and the bands of shirtsleeve officials confine their overflowing bellies within shining rows of bullet-teeth.

53 ALFONSO REYES

Las sombras de los pajaros danzan sobre las plazas mal barridas. Hay aletazos en las torres altas.

El mejor asesino del contorno, viejo y altivo, cuenta una proeza. Y un juchiteco, esclavo manumiso del fardo en que descansa, busca y recoge con el pie descalzo el cigarro que el sueno de la siesta le robo de la boca.

Los Capitanes, como han visto tanto, disfrutan, sin hablarse, los menjurjes de menta en los portales. Y todas las tormentas de las Islas Canarias, y el Cabo Verde y sus faros de colores, y la tinta china del Mar Amarillo, y el Rojo entresonado que el profeta judio parte en dos con la vara- y el Negro, donde nadan carabelas de craneos de elefantes que bombeaban el Diluvio con la trompa, y el Mar de Azufre donde perdieron cabellera, ceja y barba y el de Azogue, que puso dientes de oro a la tripulacion de piratas malayos, reviven al olor del alcohol de azucar, y andan de mariposas prisioneras bajo el azul quepi de tres galones, mientras consume nubes de tifones la pipa de cerezo.

La vecindad del mar queda abolida. Ganido errante de cobres y cornetas pasea en un tranvia. Basta saber que nos guardan las espaldas. 54 ALFONSO REYES

Bird-shadows dance over the ill-swept squares. Slap of wings in the high towers.

The best cut-throat of the neighbourhood, old and haughty, describes a success. And a man from Juchitlan, a slave freed from the bale on which he rests, gropes for and picks up with his naked toes the cigaret that his siesta-nap stole from his mouth.

The Captains who have seen so much are enjoying on porches, with no wasted words, their mint-flavoured concoctions. And all the storms of the Canary Islands, and Cape Verde with its coloured beacons, and the Chinese ink of the Yellow Sea, and the drowsing Red which the Jew prophet splits asunder with his staff and the Black, where swim caravels of skulls of the elephants who pumped the Flood with their trunks: and the Brimstone Sea, where they lost their hair, eyebrows and beards and the Sea of Quicksilver, which provided gold teeth for the Malay pirate crew: all these revive at the tang of sugar alcohol and move like captive butterflies under the blue three-gallon hats while their cherrywood pipes burn up clouds of typhoons.

The neighbourhood of the sea is abolished. A wandering yowl of brasses and cornets rides by on a bus. It's enough to know that its protection lies behind us.

55 ALFONSO REYES

ventana verde . . (Atras3 una inmensa y .) El alcohol del sol pinta de azucar los terrones fundentes de las casas.

(. . . por donde echarse a nado).

Miel de sudor, parentesco del asno, . y hombres color de hombre conciertan otras leyes, en medio de las plazas donde vagan las sombras de los pajaros.

Y sientes a la altura de las sienes los ojos fijos de las viudas de guerra. Y yo te anuncio el ataque a los volcanes de la gente que esta de espalda al mar: cuando los comedores de insectos ahuyenten las langostas con los pies, y en el silencio de las capitales se okan venir pisadas de sandalias y el trueno de las flautas mexicanas. ALFONSO REYES

(Behind, a window huge and green . . .) Alcohol of sun paints with sugar the melting lumps of the houses.

(. . . through which we can go for a swim.)

Honey of sweat, cousinhood with the ass, and men man-coloured, harmonize other laws in the middle of squares where wander bird-shadows.

And you feel, as high up as your temples, the staring eyes of war widows, I bring you news of an attack upon the volcanoes by the people whose backs are to the sea: when the devourers of insects scatter the locusts with their feet, and in the silence of the capitals you will hear the approaching tread of sandals and the thunder of Mexican flutes. D.F.

57 ALFONSO GUTIERREZ HERMOSILLO

MIENTRAS pasaba la estacion de la luz, en el camino de las estrellas ; en el sueno hablo mi boca era que por ; cuando mi boca virgen; ya que no era posible la tortura era imposible el llanto; la demonstrada sonrisa y el propio corazon, fueron como de angeles que no han visto a los hombres.

Solo una era la J por mujer posible tristeza, pero un horpJbre debe siempre buscarla!

Cuando ella ocasiona un sufrimiento porque hace descansar en su mano otra mano o, sencillamente, no nos mira en los ojos, da un dolor que bien puede ser convertido en gozo, y el ansia de ser fuertes, fuertes.

no es la esto ! j Oh, mujer que me entristece

Desconozco el mismo aire que debiera apoyarme porque en mi tacto se ha desvanecido. Estoy solo, pero no es la mujer esto que me entristece.

Estoy solo.

Nada, ni la palabra, me rodea, nada: no la estacion aquella de la luz en el camino de las estrellas, ni el eco mismo cada da en la planicie insuficiente. 58 ALFONSO GUTIERREZ HERMOSILLO

FUGUE

WHILE the station of light was passing, on the highway of the stars ; in the dream speaking through my mouth; while my mouth was yet virgin; since there was no possible anguish, lamentation was impossible; the demonstrated smile., my very heart, were as of angels who have not yet beheld men.

Only through a woman was sadness possible^

but a man must always seek her !

Occasioning a pang by resting in her hand another's hand, or, simply, by not looking us in the eyes, she is a source of pain that yet may turn into delight, into A yearning to be strong, strong!

Ah, it is no woman, this thing that saddens me !

Strange to me is the very air that should support me for it vanishes from beneath my touch. I am alone, but woman is not this thing that saddens me.

I am alone.

Nothing, not even speech, surrounds me, nothing; neither that station of light on the way of stars, nor echo itself

each day on the meagre plain.

59 ALFONSO GUTIERREZ HERMOSILLO

Y esto que ahora digo con el fin de acallarme es pobre, pobre, pobre, yo lo adivino sin mentira,- sl Dios no me sostiene.

Y para que gritar, para que amar la angustia, y ser dentro del Ilanto un llanto solo, predecir desilusion y comulgar sin templo ?

Ahora callare. jNo es el silencio que hace bien a mi alma !

VIVIMOS hasta ayer el minuto del suefio que no sera posible continuar en la muerte.

Despertaremos hoy, hermanos suplicantes, despertaremos para siempre,

Guardad bien los recuerdos, que yo traigo los mios estremecidos por la frialdad de mi cuerpo.

Viviremos desnudos, sin mas armas y sin mas holocaustos para la fuerza fuerte pero abiertos los poros al tormento.

Se hallara con los parpados una luz que no alegra y el vuelo vivira con los pasos que destruyo la muerte.

Despertaremos hoy; que mis palabras, hermanos suplicantes, os prevengan* 60 ALFONSO GUTIERREZ HERMOSILLO

And this that I say now to silence myself is poor, poor, poor how surely I sense it! if God does not sustain me.

And then why cry aloud, why fall in love with anguish, why be a lone lament at lamentation's core, predicting disillusion and an altarless sacrament?

Now I will be stilL But it is not silence, this that is my soul's good! D.F,

EAMTM

TILL yesterday we lived that moment of dreaming that can not be continued in our death.

We shall awake today, O suppliant brothers, we shall awake for ever.

Keep well your memories, for I bring you mine shivering from the chill of my body.

Naked we'll live, with no more weapons or holocausts for the brave bravura, but with our pores open to torment.

Our eyes shall make discovery of a joyless light and flight shall live in our death cancelled steps.

We shall awake today : let my words, O suppliant brothers, warn you. 61 ALFONSO GUTIERREZ HERMOSILLO

Apenas ayer, cantabamos. Apenas ayer, sonreiamos.

Dejaran nuestros ojos de adorar los colores solo abiertos al ritmo de la sangre.

Dejaran nuestros brazos de mover su alegria.

Y nuestra boca, amigos, nuestra boca de besos esparcira secretos de lombre.

Apenas ayer, cantabamos.

Apenas ayer, sonreiamos.

Tuvimos un paraiso que nuestras propias manos fabricaron, pero los dioses han querido, tan solo, darnos la tierra. ALFONSO GUTIERREZ HERMOSILLO

Only yesterday, we were singing. Only yesterday, we smiled.

Our eyes shall quite give over the cult of color, open only to the rhythm of the blood.

Our arms shall cease their dance of joy.

Our mouths, O friends, our mouths shall scatter not kisses, but secrets of light.

Only yesterday, we were singing.

Only yesterday, we smiled.

Ours was a Paradise that our own hands had fashioned, but it has pleased the gods and this only to grant us the earth. JORGE LUIS BORGES

MNSCRXPCMON SEPULCRAI*

Para el coronel don Isidoro Suarez^ mi bisabuelo

DILATO su valor allende los Andes.

Contrasto ejercitos y montes. La audacia fue impetuosa costumbre de su espada. Impuso en Junin termino formidable a la lucha, y a las lanzas del Peru dio sangre espanola. Escribio su censo de hazanas

en prosa rigida como los clarines belisonos. Murio cercado de un destierro implacable. Hoy es orilla de tanta gloria el olvido.

A ilAFAEL CANSENOS ASSENS

LARGA y final andanza sobre la exaltation arrebatada del ala del viaducto.

A nuestros pies, busca velajes el viento, y las estrellas corazones de Dios laten intensidad. Bien paladeado el gusto de la noche, traspasados de sombra, vuelta ya una costumbre de nuestra carne la noche. Noche de postrer nuestro platicar, antes que se levanten entre nosotros las leguas. Aun es de entrambos el silencio donde como praderas resplandecen las voces. Aun el alba es un pajaro perdido en la vileza mas lejana del mundo. Ultima noche resguardada del gran viento de ausencia, Grato solar del corazon, puno de arduo jinete que sabe sofrenar el agil manana.

64 JORGE LUIS BORGES

KVSCRIFTIO2V

For Colonel Isidore Suarez, my great-grandfather

His valour passed beyond the Andes. He stood against armies and mountains* Audacity was an impetuous custom of his sword. At Junin he put a formidable end to the fight, and gave Spanish blood to Peruvian lances. He wrote his roll of deeds in prose inflexible as battlesinging trumpets. He died walled in by implacable exile. Oblivion now environs so great a glory.

R. S. F.

TO RAFAEX CA1VSIJV0S ASSENS

LONG and final passage over the breathtaking height of the trestle's span. At our feet- the wind gropes for sails, and the stars hearts of God throb intensity. We relish the taste of the night, transfixed by darkness, night now become again a habit of our flesh. The final night of our talking, before the leagues rise between us. Still is ours the silence where like meadows

the voices glitter. Dawn is still a bird lost in the farthest away vileness of the world.

Ultimate night, sheltered from the great wind of absence. Pleasant homestead of the heart, that tough trooper's fist that knows how to check nimble tomorrow. JORGE LUIS BORGES

Es tragica la entrana del adios como de todo acontecer en que es notorio el Tiempo. Es duro realizar que ni tendremos en comun las estrellas.

Cuando la tarde sea quietud en mi patio, de tus carillas surgira la mafiana. Sera la sombra de mi verano tu invierno y tu luz sera gloria de mi sombra. Aun persistimos juntos. Aun las dos voces logran convenir, como la intensidad y la ternura en las puestas del sol.

Ni la intimidad de tu frente clara como una fiesta, Ni la privanza de tu cuerpo, aun misterioso y tacito y de nina, Nila sucesion de tu vida situandose en palabras o acallamient< Seran favor tan persuasivo de ideas Como el mirar tu sueno implicado En la vigilia de mis avidos brazos. Virgen milagrosamente otra vez por la virtud absolutoria del Sueno, Quieta y resplandeciente como una dicha en la seleccion del recuerdo, Me daras esa orilla de tu vida que tu misma no tienes. Arrojado a quietud, Divisare esa playa ultima de tu ser Y te vere por vez primera quizas, Como Dios ha de verte, Desbaratada la ficcion del Tiempo Sin el amor, sin mi.

66 JORGE LUIS BORGES

The inwardness of Goodbye is tragic like that of every event in which Time is manifest.

It is bitter to realize that we shall not even have the stars in common.

When evening is quietness in my courtyard, from your pages morning will rise. Your winter will be the shadow of my summer and your light the glory of my shadow. Still we persist together. Still the two voices achieve understanding, like the intensity and tenderness of the setting sun. R.S.F.

JLOVE'S PRIORIirY

NEITHER the intimacy of your forehead, fair as a feast-day, Nor the favour of your body, still mysterious, reserved and childlike,

Nor what comes to me of your life, settling in words or silence, Will be a grace so provocative of thoughts As the sight of your sleep, enfolded In the vigil of my covetous arms. Virgin again, miraculously, by the absolving power of Sleep, Quiet and luminous like some happy thing recovered by memory, You will deed to me that shore of your life that you yourself do not own. Cast up into silence, I shall discern that ultimate beach of your being And see you for the first time as, perhaps, God must see you, The fiction of Time destroyed, Free from love, from me. R. $. F^: 67 JORGE LUIS BORGES

CASAS COMo

DONDE San Juan y Chacabuco se cruzan Vi las casas azuies> Vi las casas que tienen colores de aventura. Eran como banderas Y hondas como el naciente que suelta las afueras. Las hay color de aurora y las hay color de alba. Su resplandor es una pasion ante la ochava De la esquina cuaiquiera, turbia y desanimada. Yo pienso en las mujeres Que buscaran el cielo en sus patios fervientes. Pienso en los claros brazos que ilustraran la tarde Y en el negror de trenzas; pienso en la dicha grave De mirarse en sus ojos, hondos como parrales. Es una pena altiva La que azula la esquina, Empujare la puerta cancel que es hierro y patio Y habra una clara nina, ya mi novia, en la sala. Y los dos callaremos, tremulos como llamas, Y la dicha presente se aquietara en pasada.

WIN

CON la tarde se cansaron los dos o tres colores del patio. La gfan franqueza de la luna llena ya no entusiasma su habitual firmamento. Hoy que esta crespo el cielo dira la agoreria que ha muerto un angelito. Patio, cielo encauzado. El patio es la ventana por donde Dios mira las almas. El patio es el declive por el cual se derrama el cielo en la casa.

68 JORGE LUIS BORGES

MOUSES UKE ANGELS

WHERE San Juan and Chacabuco intersect I saw the blue houses. The houses that have the colours of adventure. They were like banners And deep as the East that sets free the suburbs. Some are daybreak colour and some the colour of dawn. Their radiance is a passion before the facet Of any corner,, murky, dispirited. I think of the women

Who will be looking heavenward from their burning patios. I think of the pale arms still clear in the evening And of the blackness of braids; I think of the grave delight Of being mirrored in their eyes, deep as honey-jars. It is a haughty sorrow That stains the corner blue. I will thrust through the inner gate of iron and courtyard

And there will be a fair girl, already mine, in the room. And the two of us will hush, trembling like flames, And the present joy will grow quiet in that passed. R.S.F. PATIO

WITH the evening the two or three colours of the patio grew weary. The huge candour of the full moon no longer enchants its habitual firmament. Now that heaven is crisp with clouds augury will say that a little angel has died. The patio is a conduit of Heaven. The patio is the window through which God looks at souls. The patio is the slope down which the brimming sky flows into the house.

69 JORGE LUIS BORGES

Serena la eternidad espera en la encrucijada de estrellas. Lindo es vivir en la amistad oscura

de un zaguan, de un alero, y de un aljibe.

EN &&,

POR el deceso de alguien misterio cuyo vacante nombre poseo, cuya

realidad no abarcamos , hay hasta el alba una casa abierta en el Sur, una ignorada casa que no estoy destinado a rever, pero que me espera esta noche con desvelada luz en las altas horas del sueno, demacrada de malas noches^ distinta, minuciosa de realidad.

A su vigilia gravitada en muerte camino por las calles elementales como recuerdos, por el tiempo abundante de la noche, sin mas oible vida que los vagos hombres de barrio junto al apagado almacenj y algun silbido solo en el mundo.

Lento el andar, en la posesion de la espera, llego a la cuadra y a la casa y a la sincera puerta que busco y me reciben hombres obligados a gravedad que participaron de los anos de mis mayores, y nivelamos destinos en una pieza habilitada que mira al patio pieza que esta bajo el poder y en la integridad de la noche

70 JORGE LUIS BORGES

Serenely eternity waits at the crossway of the stars, It is lovely to live in the dark friendliness of the covered entrance, the eaves, and the sweet cistern.

R. S. F.

THE IVI&MT THEY iEPT VIGIL IN TME SHI7TH

BECAUSE of someone's death

a mystery whose empty name I possess, whose

reality we do not grasp , there is in the South a house open wide till dawn, an unknown house I am destined not to see again, but which awaits me tonight with a sleepless light in the dead hours of sleep, wasted away by bad nights, distinct, precise in its reality.

Toward its heavy death-watch I make my way through streets as simple as memories^ through the abundant night-time, with a life no more audible than the neighbourhood loiterers idling near the dark store, and a whistle alone in the world.

Walking slowly, possessed by hope, I arrive at the block and the house and the honest door I am seeking, and they receive me : men bound to be grave, who shared the years of my elders, and we size up our destinies in a prepared room that looks on the court a room that is under the power and wholeness of night

71 JORGE LUIS BORGES

y decimos, porque la realidad es mayor, cosas indiferentes y somos desganados y criollos en el espejo y el mate cotnpartido mide horas raras.

Me enternecen las menudas sabidurias que en todo fallecimiento de hombre se pierden habito de unos libros, de una Have, de un cuerpo

entre los otros , frecuencias irrecuperables que fueron la precision y la amistad del mundo para el. Yo se que todo privilegio, aunque oscuro, es de linaje de milagros

y mucho lo es el de participar en esta vigilia, reunida alrededor de lo que no se sabe : del Muerto, reunida para incomunicar o guardar su primera noche en la muerte.

(El velorio gasta las caras; los se ojos nos estan muriendo en lo alto como Jesus.)

I Y el muerto, el increible ?

Su realidad esta bajo las flores diferentes de el, y su mortal hospitalidad nos dara un recuerdo mas para el tiempo y sentenciosas calles del Sur para merecerlas despacio y brisa oscura sobre la frente que vuelve y la noche que de la mayor congoja nos libra: la prolijidad de lo real. JORGE LUIS BORGES

and we speak, since the reality is greater, of indifferent things, and we are apathetic and familiar in the mirror, and the shared mate measures out empty hours.

I am touched by the little pieces of wisdom which in every man's death are lost the habit of books, of a key, of one body the others among , irrecoverable rhythms that were the order and friendliness of the world for him.

I know that every privilege, though obscure, is of the lineage of miracles,

and surely it is a privilege to take part in this watch, gathered around what no one knows; the dead; gathered to set him apart or to guard him this first night in death.

(Faces grow haggard with watching: our eyes are dying on the height like Jesus.)

And the dead man, the incredible?

His reality remains beneath the different flowerings of him, and his hospitality in death will give us one memory more for time, and sententious and slowly-to-be-inerited streets of the South, the dark breeze across the forehead that turns back, and the night that sets us free from the greatest sorrow: the endless chatter of the real.

R. S. F.

73 JORGE DE LIMA

IAJ JOA0

PAE Joao seccou como um pau sem raiz. Pae Joao vae morrer. Pae Joao remou nas canoas, cavou a terra, fez brotar do chao a esmeralda das folhas : cafe, canna, algodao. Pae Joao cavou mais esmeraldas que Paes Lerne. A filha de Pae Joao tinha um peito de vaca para os filhos de yoyo mamar. Quando o peito seccou a filha de Pae Joao tambem seccou agarrada num ferro de engomar. A pelle de Pae Joao ficou na ponta dos chicotes. A forga de Pae Joao ficou no cabo da enxada e da foice.

A mulher de Pae Joao o branco furtou para fazer mucamas. O sangue de Pae Joao se sumiu no sangue bom como um torrao de assucar bruto numa panella de leite. Pae Joao foi cavallo para os filhos de yoyo montar. Pae Joao sabia historias tao bonitas que davam vontade de chorar.

Pae Joao vae morrer.

Ha uma noite la fora como a pelle de Pae Joao. Nem uma estrella no ceu. Parece ate mandinga de Pae Joao.

74 JORGE DE LIMA

JOfflV

DADDY John withered like a tree without roots. Daddy John is dying. Daddy John pulled at the oars, tilled the earth, drew from the soil a green wealth of leaves: coffee, sugar cane, cotton. Daddy John dug more emeralds than Paes Leme. Daddy John's daughter, with her cow's dugs, suckled the massa's children.

When her breast was dry, Daddy John's daughter withered also, still clutching her flatiron. The skin of Daddy John stayed on the whip-lash. The strength of Daddy John stayed on the handle of the hoe and sickle.

The white man stole Daddy John's wife to be wet-nurse to his children. The blood of Daddy John melted in the blood of the quality like a lump of brown sugar in a jar of milk. Daddy John was a horse for the massa's children to ride. Daddy John knew stories so pretty they made you want to cry.

Daddy John is dying.

The night out yonder is like the skin of Daddy John. Not a star in the sky. So that it seems the very magic of Daddy John. D.P. 75 JORGE DE LIMA

A AWE

NINGUEM sabia donde viera a extranha ave. Talvez o ultimo cyclone a arrebatasse de incognita ilha ou de algum golpho; ou nascesse das algas gigantescas do mar, ou caisse de uma outra atmosphera, ou de outrb mundo ou de outro mysterio. Velhos hoinens do mar nunca a haviam visto nos gelos

nem nenhum andarillho a encontrara jamais : era anthropomorpha como um anjo e silenciosa como qualquer poeta. Primeiro pairou na grande cupola do templo, mas o pontifice tangeu-a de la como se tange um demonio doente.

E na mesma noite poisou no cimo do pharol, e o pharoleiro tangeu-a: ella podia atrapalhar as naus. Ninguem Ihe offereceu um pedago de pao ou um gesto suave onde se dependurasse. E alguem disse: "Essa ave e uma ave ma das que devoram o gado." E outro: "Essa ave deve ser um demonio faminto." E quando as suas azas pairavam espalmadas dando sombra as creanjas cansadas, ate as maes jogavan pedras na mysteriosa ave perseguida e inquieta. Talvez houvesse fugido de qualquer pico silencioso entre as nuvens ou perdesse a companheira abatida de setta. A ave era anthropomorpha como um anjo e solitaria como qualquer poeta. E parecia querer o convivio dos homens que a enxotavam como se enxota um demonio doente. a enchente Quando periodica afogou os trigaes, alguem disse: "A ave trouxe a enchente/'

76 JORGE DE LIMA

THE

No MAN knew whence the strange bird came. Possibly the last hurricane had swept it from an unknown island or from some gulf; or it was born of gigantic seaweeds, or it fell from another atmosphere, from another world, another mystery. Old sailors had never seen it among the ice, nor had any wanderer ever met up with it: man-shaped it was, like an angel, and silent like any poet. At first it over hovered the great dome of the temple ; but the high priest drove it away, as one would drive a malign

spirit. In the same night it lit on the summit of the lighthouse, and the keeper drove it thence, lest it mislead the ships. No one offered it a morsel of bread or the kindly shelter of a resting place. Someone said: This is one of those evil birds that devour the flocks.

And another : This bird is no doubt a hungry demon. When with outstretched wings it sheltered weary children, the mothers themselves stoned the mysterious, persecuted and unresting bird. It had fled, perhaps,, from a silent peak among the clouds, or had lost its mate by an arrow. The bird was man-shaped, like an angel, and solitary as any poet. And it seemed to desire the companionship of men

who drove it from them as one would drive a malign spirit. When the accustomed flood overwhelmed the wheatfields, someone said: The bird brought the flood.

77 JORGE DE LIMA

Quando a secca annual assolou os rebanhos, alguem disse: "A ave comeu os cordeiros." E todas as fontes Ihe negando agua, a ave desabou sobre o mundo como um Samsao sem vida. Entao urn simples pescador apanhou o cadaver macio e falou: "Achei o corpo de uma grande ave mansa." E alguem recordou que a ave levava ovos aos anachoretas.

Um mendigo falou que a ave o abrigara muitas vezes do frio.

E um nu: "A ave cedeu as pennas para meu gibao."

E o chefe do povo : "Era o rei das aves, que desconhecemos." E o filho mais mofo do chefe que era sosinho emanso: "Da-me as pennas para eu escrever a minha vida tao igual a da ave em que me vejo mais do que me vejo em ti, meu pae."

&&EWA mm QUALQUEH

As GERAgoES da virgem estao tatuadas no ventre escorreito, porque a virgem representa tudo o que ha de vir. Ha arco-iris tatuados nas maos, ha Babeis tatuadas nos brafos. A virgem tern o corpo tatuado por Deus porque e a semente do mundo que ha de vir. Nao ha um milimetro do corpo, sem desenho e sem plantas futuras. Nao ha um poro sem tatuagem: por isso a virgem e tao bella. Vamos ler a vamos virgem, conhecer o futuro : reparae que nao sao 6 homens de vista enfeites, curta. Olhae: sao tatuagens dentro

78 JORGE DE LIMA

When the yearly drought wasted the herds, someone said: The bird ate the lambs.

And since ail the fountains denied it water, the bird fell upon the earth like a Samson deprived of life.

Then a humble fisherman gathered up the soft body and said : I found the body of a great gentle bird. And someone remembered that the bird used to carry eggs to the hermits. A beggar told how the bird often sheltered him from the cold.

And a naked man said : The bird gave me feathers for a coat. And the leader of the people: It was the king of the birds and we knew him not.

And the leader's youngest son, who was lonely and gentle, said:

Give me the quills that I may write my life, so like that bird's, wherein I see myself more than I see myself in thee, my father. D.P. FHEM HF ANJ?

THE generations of the virgin are tattooed on her unblemished belly, for the virgin represents all that is to be. Rainbows are tattooed on her hands. Towers of Babel on her arms.

The virgin's body is tattooed by God because she is the source of the world to be.

There is not a particle of her body without designs and future plans. Not a pore is without tattooing: that is why the virgin is so beautiful.

Come, let us read the virgin, let us learn the future: note that the tattooings are not mere adornments, O men of little sight. See, there are tattooings within

79 JORGE DE LIMA

de tatuagens, sao gera^oes saindo de geragoes. Quern tatuou a virgem ? Foi Deus no dia da Queda. Vede a serpente tatuada nella. Vede o anjo tatuado nella. Vede uma Cruz tatuada nella. Vede, senhores, que nao pagareis nada. E' o supremo espectaculo, meus senhores. Ensinarei os mysterids, as letras sym- bolicas ate o omega. Vinde ver o trabalho ad- mixavel gravado no corpo da virgem; a historia do mundo, a estratosphera habitada, o magico Tim- Ka-Lu viajando na lua. Porque a vkgem e admk- avel e tern tudo. Vinde senhores, que nao pagareis nada. A imagem da innocencia, da volupia, do crime, da bondade, as representa^oes incriveis estao no dorso da virgem, no pescojo, na face. Vao sahir tumultos das tatuagens. E' um momento muito serio, senhores. Vao sahir grandes revoltas. Ha um mar tatuado na vkgem, com os sete dias da creagao, com o diluvio, com a morte, Vinde senhores, que nao pagareis nada.

Senhores, hoje ha espectaculo no mundo. Vamos ver a virgem, a virgem tatuada, a virgem tatuada por Deus.

Ella esta nua e ao mesmo tempo vestida de tatuagens. Meus senhores, a virgem vae se desdobrar em milenios. Ha intuigks nas tatuagens, ha poemas, ha mysterios. E' por isso que o espectaculo e bonito. E' por isso que a virgem vos attrae. Vinde, senhores!

O GRANDE CIHCO MYSTICO

O MEDICO de camara da imperatriz Thereza Frederico Knieps resolveu que seu filho tambem fosse medico,

80 JORGE DE LIMA tattooings, there are generations issuing from generations. Who tattooed the virgin ? It was God on the day of the Fall. See the serpent tattooed on her. See the angel tattooed on her. See the Cross tattooed on her. Look, gentlemen, there is nothing to pay. This is the supreme spectacle, gentle- men. I will explain the mysteries, the symbolical letters even to omega. Come and see the marvelous work etched on the virgin's body: the history of the world, the inhabited stratosphere, the magician Tim-Ka-Lu taking a journey in the moon. For the virgin is marvel- ous and contains everything. Come gentlemen, there is nothing to pay. The image of innocence, of lust, of crime, of goodness, all these incredible pictures are on the virgin's back, on her neck, on her face. Disorders are about to issue from die tattooings. The moment is extremely grave, gentlemen. Great revolts are in the making. There is a sea tattooed on the virgin, with the seven days of creation, with the flood, with death. Come, gentlemen, there is no admission to pay.

Gentlemen, today there is a spectacle on earth. Come and see the virgin, the tattooed virgin, the virgin tattooed by God. She is naked and at the same time clothed with tattooings. Gentlemen, the virgin is going to be on show for ages. There are prognostications in the tattooings, there are poems, there are mysteries. is the attracts That is why the show is pretty. That why virgin you. Come, gentlemen! D.P.

THE BIG MYSTICAL CIRCUS

FREDERICK Knieps, Physician of the Bed-Chamber to the Empress Theresa, resolved that his son also should be a doctor, JORGE DE LIMA

mas o rapaz fazendo relates com a equilibrista Agnes, com ella se casou, fundando a dynastia de circo Knieps de que tanto se tern occupado a imprensa. Charlotte., filha de Frederico, se casou com o clown, de que nasceram Marie e Otto. E Otto se casou com Lily Braun, a grande deslocadora, que tinha no ventre um santo tatuado. A filha de Lily Braun a tatuada no ventre quiz entrar para um convento, mas Otto Frederico Knieps nao attendeu, e Margarethe continuou a dynastia do circo de que tanto se tern occupado a imprensa. Entao, Margarethe tatuou o corpo soifrendo muito por amor de Deus, pois gravou em sua pelle rosea a Via-Sacra do Senhor dos Passos.

E nenhum tigre a offendeu jarnais; e o leao Nero que ja havia comido dois ventriloquos, quando ella entrava nua pela jaula a dentro, chorava como um recemnascido. Seu esposo o trapezista Ludwig nunca mais a poude amar

pois as gravuras sagradas afastavam a pelle della e o desejo delle. Entao, o boxeur Rudolf que era atheu e era homem fera derrubou Margarethe e a violou, Quando acabou, o atheu se converteu, morreu, duas Margarethe pariu meninas que sao o prodigio do Grande Circo Knieps. Mas o maior milagre sao as suas virgindades em que os banqiieiros e os homens de monoculo teem esbarrado; sao as suas levitates que a platea pensa ser truque; e a sua pureza em que ninguem acredita; sao as suas magicas que os simples dizem que 6 o diabo;

82 JORGE DE LIMA but the youth, having established relations with Agnes, the tightrope artist, married her and founded the circus dynasty of Knieps with which the newspapers are so much concerned. Charlotte, the daughter of Frederick, married the clown, whence sprang Marie and Otto. Otto married Lily Braun, the celebrated contortionist, who had a saint's image tattooed on her belly. The daughter of Lily Braun she of the tattooed belly wanted to enter a convent, but Otto Frederick Knieps would not consent, and Margaret continued the circus dynasty with which the newspapers are so much concerned. Then Margaret had her body tattooed, suffering greatly for the love of God, and caused to be engraved on her rosy skin the Fourteen Stations of our Lord's Passion.

No tiger ever attacked her; the lion Nero, who had already eaten two ventriloquists, when she entered his cage nude, wept like a new-born babe. Her husband, the trapeze artist Ludwig, never could love her thereafter, because the sacred engravings obliterated both her skin and his desire.

Then the pugilist Rudolph, who was an atheist and a cruel man, attacked Margaret and violated her.

After this, he was converted and died. Margaret bore two daughters who are the wonder of Knieps' Great Circus.

But the greatest of miracles is their virginity, against which bankers and gentlemen with monocles beat in vain; their levitations, which the audience thinks a fraud;

their chastity, in which nobody believes; is the devil's their magic, which the simple-minded say ;

83 JORGE DE LIMA

mas as crean^as crem nellas, sao seus fieis, seus amigos, seus devotos. Marie e Helene se apresentam nuas, dansam no arame e deslocam de tal forma os membros que parece que os membros nao sao dellas. A platea bisa coxas, bisa seios, bisa sovacos.

Marie e Helene se repartem todas, se distribuem pelos homens cynicos, mas ninguem ve as almas que ellas conservam puras. E quando atiram os membros para a visao dos homens, atiram as almas para a visao de Deus. Com a verdadeira historia do grande circo Knieps muito pouco se tern occupado a imprensa.

ESFIKITO PARACLtTO

QUEIMA-ME Lingua de Fogo ! Sopra depois sobre as achas incendiadas e espalha-as pelo mundo para que tua chamma se propague! Transforma-me em tuas brazas para que eu queime tambem como tu queimas eu para que marque tambem como tu marcas ! Esphacela-me com tua tempestade, Espirito violento e dulcissimo, e recompoe-me quando quizeres, e cega-me para que os prodigios de Deus se realisem, e illumina-me para que tua gloria se irradie ! Espirito, tu que es a bocca de todas as sentengas, toca-me para que os meus irmaus desconhecidos e longinquos e extranhos, comprehendam a minha fala para todos os ouvidos que creares!

84 JORGE DE LIMA yet the children believe in them, are their faithful followers, their friends, their devoted worshipers. Marie and Helene perform nude; they dance on the wire and so dislocate their limbs that their arms and legs no longer appear their own. The spectators shout encore to thighs, encore to breasts, encore to armpits. Marie and Helene give themselves wholly, and are shared by cynical men; but their souls, which nobody sees, they keep pure. And when they display their limbs in the sight of men, they display their souls in the sight of God. With the true history of Knieps' Great Circus the newspapers are very litde concerned. D.P.

PARACLETE

BURN me, Tongue of Fire! Then blow upon the kindled fagots and scatter them through the earth

that Thy flames may multiply ! Transform me in Thy burning coals as that I, too, may burn Thou burnest, fire as dost! that I, too, may brand with Thou Destroy me with Thy tempest, Spirit violent and most gentle, and restore me when Thou wilt; blind me that the miracles of God may come to pass, and grant me light that the rays of Thy glory may spread! of all Spirit, Thou who art the mouth wisdom, kindle me, that my nameless brothers in far off unfamiliar lands may know my speech through all the ears Thou hast created!

85 JORGE DE LIMA

Exceder-me-hel em meus limites, crescerei em todas as distancias, serei a palavra transcendent^ a prophecia,, a revelagao e as realidades! Devora-me, renova-tne, resurge~me em tua vontade creadora deante da morte e deante do nada!

Agu$a a minha intui^acx, descanga em minhas pupilias, agita a minha lentidao, faze-me numeroso como tu, cobre todo o meu corpo de palpebras que espreitem todas as latitudes e longitudes e espectativas e annunciates e partos e concep^oes e gera^oes e seculos de seculos ! Resurgirei de todos os ventres e voarei no sentldo da perpetuidade sobre as aguas e sobre as terras!

Desata-me, Espirito Paraclito! Corta os meus lacos, a terra sopra que ha sobre a minha sepultura ! Enche-me de tua verdade e sagra-me teu moderno

apostolo ! Amo como poeta a forma com que te apresentaste a assemblea do Cenaculo ! E sinto a tua presen^a, a tua approximagao, a tua un^ao sobre a minha alma! Da-me tua fecundidade sobrenatural, tua heroicidade e tua Luz ! Unge-me teu sacerdote, teu soldado, teu vinho, teu pao, tua semente, tuas perspectivas! Espirito Paraclito, dedo da direita do Pae, soergue as minhas palpebras descidas e sopra sobre ellas o teu halito e tua essencia!

Espirito Paraclito, amo-te, com os meus cinco sentidos, com a minha imaginafao,

86 JORGE DE LIMA

That I may surpass my limitations,, that I may grow in all dimensions/ that I may be the transcendent word, the prophecy, the revela- tion and the reality! Consume me, renew me, bring me forth again through Thy creative will

in the face of death and in the face of nothingness! Increase my awareness, stay within my sight, quicken in me what is slow,

make me manifold as Thou art, cover my whole body with lidded eyes to spy out all latitudes and longitudes, all hopes and annunciations, all births, all conceptions, all generations, world without end! I shall rise again from all wombs,

I shall fly towards eternity above the waters and above the lands!

Set me free, Paraclete! Loosen my bonds, blow the earth from my tomb ! Fill me with Thy truth and consecrate me Thy apostle for today! I love as a poet the form in which Thou didst reveal Thyself to the gathering at the Last Supper! And I feel Thy presence, Thy nearness, Thy unction upon my soul! Endow me with Thy fruitfulness surpassing nature, Thy courage and Thy light! Anoint me Thy priest, make me Thy soldier, Thy wine, Thy bread, Thy seed, Thy horizon! Paraclete, finger of the right hand of the Father, lift my drooping eyelids and blow Thy breath and Thy being upon them! Paraclete, I adore Thee with my five senses, with my imagination,

87 JORGE DE LIMA

com a minha memoria e com os outros dons poeticos e prophetlcos e reconstituidores que ultrapassam minha espessa materia e meu espirito translucido! Sou teu ramo de oliveira que trazes dos diluvios constantes da humanidade e cujo oleo ungira os meus iguaes e os desiguaes de meu

tamanho ! Espirito Paraclito, tu que es o unico passaro que desce s6bre mim na minha noite untuosa, fura os meus olhos para que eu veja mais, para que eu penetre a unidade que tu es, a liberdade que tu es, a multiplicidade que tu es, para eu subir de minha pequenez e me abater em ti!

POEMA HO CHRISTAO

PORQUE o sangue de Christo jorrqu sobre os meus olhos, a minha visao e universal e tern dimensoes que ninguem sabe. Os milenios passados e os futuros nao me aturdem porque nasfo e nascerei, porque sou uno com todas as creaturas, com todos os seres, com todas as coisas que eu decomponho e absorvo com os sentidos e comprehendo com a intelligencia transfigurada em Christo. Tenho os movimentcs alargados.

Sou ubiquo : estou em Deus e na materia; sou velhissimo e apenas nasci hontem, estou molhado dos limos primitives,

88 JORGE DE LIMA with my memory and with all other faculties poetic, prophetic and creative, faculties transcending my gross substance and my translucent spirit! I am the olive branch which Thou bringest from the recurrent floods of mankind whose oil shall anoint alike my equals and those who are not my equals ! Paraclete, Thou who alone descendest like a bird upon me in my dark night, sharpen my eyes that I may see more clearly, that I may penetrate the unity which Thou art, the liberty which Thou art, the multiplicity which Thou art, that I may rise from my littleness and humble myself before Thee! D.P.

CHRISTIAN'S POEM

BECAUSE the blood of Christ spurted upon my eyes I see all things and so profoundly that none may know. Centuries past and yet to come dismay me not, for I am born and shall be born again, for I am one with all creatures, with all beings, and with all things; all of them I dissolve and take in again with my senses and embrace with a mind transfigured in Christ. My reach is throughout space. I am everywhere: I am in God and in matter; I am older than time and yet was born yesterday, I drip with primeval slime,

89 JORGE DE LIMA

e ao mesmo tempo resoo as trombetas finaes, todas as todos os todos os comprehendo Iinguas 3 gestos, signos, tenho globulos de sangue das ragas mais oppostas. Posso enxugar com um simple aceno o choro de todos os irmaos distantes.

Posso estender sobre todas as cabegas um ceo unanime e estrellado. Chamo todos os mendigos para comer commigo, e ando sobre as aguas como os prophetas biblicos. Nao ha escuridao mais para mim. Opero transfusoes de luz nos seres opacos, posso mutilar-me e reproduzir meus membros como as estrellas do mar, porque creio na resurreifao da carne e creio em Christo, e creio na vida eterna, amen. E tendo a vida eterna posso transgredir leis naturaes: a minha passagem e esperada nas estradas, venho e irei como uina prophecia, sou espontaneo como a intuijao e a Fe. Sou rapido como a respostk do Mestre, sou inconsutil como a sua tunica, sou numeroso como a sua Igreja, tenho os bra^os abertos como a sua Cruz despeda^ada e refeita todas as horas., em todas as direc^oes, nos quatro pontos cardeaes; e sobre os hombros A conduzo atravez de toda a escuridao do mundo, porque tenho a luz eterna nos olhos. E tendo a luz eterna nos olhos sou o maior magico : resuscito bocca na dos tigres, sou palhago, sou alpha e omega, peixe, cordeiro, comedor de gafanhotos, sou ridiculo, sou tentado e perdoado, sou derrubado no chao e glorificado, tenho mantos de purpura e de estamenha, sou burrissimo

90 JORGE DE LIMA and at the same time I blow the last trumpet. I understand all tongues, all acts, all signs, I contain within me the blood of races utterly opposed. I can dry, with a mere nod, the weeping of all distant brothers. I can over all heads spread one all-embracing and starry sky. I invite all beggars to dine with me, and I walk on the waters like the prophets of the Bible. For me there is no darkness.

I imbue the blind with light, I can mutilate myself and grow my limbs anew like the starfish, because I believe in the resurrection of the flesh and because I believe in Christ, and in the life eternal, amen. And possessing eternal life I am able to transgress the laws of nature: my passing is looked for in the streets, I come and go like a prophecy, I come unbidden like knowledge and Faith. I am ready like the Master's answer, I am seamless like His garment, I am manifold like His Church, my arms are spread like the arms of His Cross, broken yet always restored, at all hours, in all directions, to the four points of the compass; and I bear His Cross on my shoulders through all the darkness of the world, because the light eternal is in my eyes. And having in my eyes the light eternal, I am the greatest

worker of wonders :

I rise again from the mouth of tigers, I am clown, I am alpha and omega, I am fish, lamb, eater of locusts, I am ridiculous, I am tempted and pardoned, I am cast down upon earth and uplifted in glory, I am clothed in : mantles of purple and fine linen, I am ;jnorant like

9* JORGE DE LIMA

como Sao Christovam e sapientissiino como Santo Thomaz. E sou louco, louco, inteiramente louco, para sempre> para todos os seculos, louco de Deus, amen. E sendo a loucura de Deus, sou a razao das coisas, a ordem e a medida, sou a a a a balanf 5 creagao, obediencia, sou o arrependimento, sou a humildadej sou o autor da paixao e morte de Jesus, sou a culpa de tudo, Nada sou. Miserere mei, Deus, secundum magnam misericordiam tuam! JORGE DE LIMA

Saint Christopher and learned like Saint Thomas. And I am mad, mad, wholly mad forever, world without end, mad with God, Amen. And being the madness of God I am the reason in all things, the order and the measure, I am judgment, creation, obedience, I am repentance, I am humility, I am the author of the passion and death of Jesus, I am the sin of all men, I am nothing. Miserere mei, Deus, secundum magnam misericordiam tuam! D.P.

93 MURILO MENDES

Eu Te proclamo grande, admirlvel, Nao porqne fizeste o sol para presidir o dia E as estrelas para presidirem a noite; Nao porque fizeste a terra e tudo que se contem nela, Os frutos do campo, as flores, os cinemas, aslocomotivas; Nao porque fizeste o mar e tudo que se contem nle, Seus animais, suas plantas, seus submarinos, suas sereias; Eu Te proclamo grande e admiravel eternamente Porque Te fazes pequenino na Eucaristia, Tanto assim eu fraco e que ? miserando, posso Te conter ! . ,

94 MURILO MENDES

PSAIM

I PROCLAIM Thee great and wonderful, Not because Thou hast made the sun to avail by day And the stars to avail by night; Not because Thou hast made the earth and all that is therein.

The fruits of the field, the flowers, the cinemas, the locomotives; Not because Thou hast made the sea and all that is therein,

The animals and plants, submarines and sirens; I proclaim Thee great and eternally wonderful Because Thou makest Thyself tiny in the Eucharist,

So tiny that I, weak and wretched, am able to contain Thee!... D.P.

95 SALVADOR KOVO

ME escribe Napoleon : C E1 Colegio es muy grande nos levantamos muy temprano hablamos unicamente ingles, te mando un retrato del edificio. . .'

Ya no robaremos juntos dulces de las alacenas, ni escaparemos hacia el rio para ahogarnos a medias y pescar sandias sangrientas.

Ya voy a presentar sexto ano, despues, segun todas las probabilidades, aprendere todo lo que se deba, sere medico, tendre ambiciones, barba, pantalon largo.

Pero si tengo un hljo hare que nadie nunca le ensene nada. Quiero que sea tan perezoso y feliz como a mi no me dejaron mis padres, ni a mis padres mis abuelos ni a mis abuelos Dios.

Los NOPALES nos sacan la lengua, pero los maizales por estaturas con su copetito mal rapado y su cuaderno debajo del brazo nos saludan con sus mangas rotas. 96 SALVADOR NOVO

wrtes me : *The School is very big we get up very early we speak nothing but English, I'm sending you a picture of the building . .

"We won't steal candy together any more from the cupboards, or run off to the river to half drown ourselves, or snitch the bloodstained watermelons.

I'm ready now for my sixth-year exams; afterwards, as far as I can make out, 111 learn everything you ought to learn, 111 be a doctor, 111 have ambitions, a beard, long pants. . .

But if I have a son 111 see that no one ever teaches him anything. I want him to be lazy and happy the way I never could be because of my parents, nor my parents because of my grandparents, nor my grandparents because of God. L.M.

&OXJKNETY

THE prickly pears stick out their tongues at us, but the cornfields, lined up according to height, with their badly cropped topknots, and notebooks under their arms, salute us with their ragged sleeves. 97 SALVADOR NOVO

Los tnagueyes hacen glmnasia sueca de quinientos en fondo, y el sol policia secreto (tira la piedra y esconde la mano) denuncia nuestxa fuga ridicula en la linterna magica del prado. A la noche nos vengaremos encendiendo nuestros faroles y echando por tierra los bosques.

Alguno que otro arbol quiere dar clase de filologia. Las nubes inspectoras de momimentos sacuden las maquetas de los montes.

tenis con tunas

POJE7SIA

PARA escribir poemas, para ser un poeta de vida apasionada y romantica cuyos libros estan en las manos de todos y de quien hacen libros y publican retratos los periodico es necesario decir las cosas que leo, esas del corazon, de la mujer y del paisaje, del amor fracasado y de la vida dolorosa, en versos perfectamente medidos, sin asonancias en el mismo verso, con metaforas nuevas y brillantes. SALVADOR NOVO

The magueys do Swedish gymnastics five hundred in a rank, and the sun secret police (hurl the stone and hide the hand) exposes our ridiculous flight in the magic lantern o the meadow. Well take revenge at night by the light of our lanterns, smashing the woods flat.

Some tree or other wants to teach a class in Philology. The clouds, inspectors of monuments, shake out the scale-model mountains.

Who wants to play tennis with prickly pears over the net of the telephone wires ? Later we shall take a Russian bath in the lost hut in the mountains, The rainbow will do for a shower. Any rag of cloud will dry us. H. R. H

To WHITE poems, to be a poet with a passionate and romantic life whose books are in everyone's hands, about whom books are written and whose picture is published in the papers, I must say the things that I read, matters of the heart, women and landscapes, love come to grief and grievous life, in perfectly measured verses, avoiding assonance within a single line, with new and brilliant metaphors.

99 SALVADOR NOVO

La musica del verso embriaga y si uno sabe referir rotundamente su inspiracion arrancara las lagrimas del auditorio., le comunicara sus emociones reconditas y sera coronado en certamenes y concursos.

Yo puedo hacer versos perfectos, medirlos y evitar sus asonancias, poemas que conmuevan a quien los lea

las exclamar : nino tan y que hagan j Que inteligente!

Yo les dire entonces

que los he escrito desde que tenia once anos : no he de deckles nunca que no he hecho sino darles la clase que he aprendido de todos los poetas. Tendre una habilidad de histrion para hacerles creer que me conmueve lo que a ellos.

Pero en mi lecho, solo, dulcemente, sin recuerdos, sin voz, siento que la poesia no ha salido de mi.

100 SALVADOR NOVO

The music of the verse intoxicates, and if one can state his inspiration clearly he will draw tears from the audience, he will communicate to it his recondite emotions, and be crowned in contests and competitions.

I can make perfect verses, measure them and avoid their assonances, poems that will move the readers and make them exclaim: "What a bright child!"

I will tell them then that I have been writing poems since I was eleven: I must never tell them that I have merely given them the course that I have learned from all the poets. I shall have an actor's skill to make them think that what moves them moves me.

But in my bed, alone, softly, without memories, without voice, I feel that poetry has not come out of me. D. D. w.

101 OCTAVIO PAZ

MMJR

DEJA que te recuerde o que te suefie, amor, mentira cierta y ya vivida, mas que per los sentidos, por el alma.

Atras de la memoria, en ese limbo donde recuerdos, musicas, deseos, suenan su renacer en esculturas, cae tu pelo suelto, tu sonrisa, puerta de la blancura, aun sonrie y alienta todavia ese ademan de flor que el aire mueve. Todavia la fiebre de tu mano, donde corren esos rios que mojan clertos suefios, > hace crecer dentro de mi mareas y aun suenan tus pasos, que el silencio cubre con aguas mansas, como el agua al sonido sonambulo sepulta.

Cierro los ojos : nacen dichas, goces> bahias de hermosura, eternidades substraidas, fiuir vivo de imagenes, delicias desatadas, pleamar, ocio que colma el pecho de abandono como el brillo deun ala anega el ojo de dichas amarillas, instantaneas.

dias con alas de j Dichas, suspiro, leves como la sombra de los paj aros ! 102 OCTAVIO PAZ

TMJK WAIJL

LET me remember you or dream you, love (a lie clear and already lived), more than with my senses, with my soul.

Far back of memory, in that limbo where memories, music, longings dream their rebirth in sculptures, falls your flowing hair ; and your smile, portal of whiteness, smiles yet, still brings forth that gesture of a flower moving upon the air. And still the fever of your hand, wherein those rivers run that water certain dreams, raises up tides within me; and still your footsteps sound, hushed by silence under gentle waters, as water buries the somnambular sound.

I close and are and my eyes ; joys born, pleasures, bays of beauty, eternities withdrawn, the living flow of images, delights unbound, full tide, ease filling the heart with release, as a flashing wing can drown the eye in yellow, instant pleasure*

O delights, days sigh-wing*d, light as the shadow of birds ! 103 OCTAVIO PAZ

Y su quebrada voz abre en mi pecho un ciego paraiso, una agonia, el recordado infierno de unos labios

(tupaladar: un cielo rojo, golfo donde duermen tus dientes, caracola donde oye la ola su caida), el infinite hambriento en unos ojos, un pulso, un tacto, un cuerpo que se fuga, la sombra de un aroma, la promesa de un cielo sin orillas, pleno, eterno.

Mas cierra el paso un muro y todo cesa. Mi corazon a oscuras late y llama; con pufio ciego y arido golpea la sorda piedra y suena su latido a lluvia de ceniza en un desierto.

CIERRA los ojos y a oscuras pierdete bajo el follaje rojo de tus parpados.

Hundete en esas espirales del sonido que zumba y cae y suena alia, remoto, hacia el sitio del timpano, como una catarata ensordecida.

Hunde tu ser a oscuras, anegate en tu piel, y mas, en tus entranas ; que te deslumbre y ciegue el hueso, livida centelia, y entre simas y golfos de tiniebla abra su azul penacho el fuego f 104 OCTAVIO PAZ

And their broken voice opens in my heart a blind paradise, an agony, the hell remembered of two lips

(your mouth : red heaven, gulf where teeth shell your sleep, where the wave hears its own breaking),

limitless in a of The hunger pair eyes, a a a pulse, touch, fleeing body, shadow of perfume, promise of a shoreless heaven, full, for ever.

But a wall cuts me off, and all is over.

My heart beats and calls in the dark : with its blind and sterile fist the deaf stone strikes, and its beating sounds like an ashy rain falling in the waste land

D.F.

OBUVION

in darkness CLOSE your eyes and lose yourself beneath the red foliage of your lids.

Sink within those spirals of sound buzzing, falling, echoing there, remote, toward the place of drums, like a muted waterfall.

in the darkness Submerge your being ; drown yourself in your flesh, even more, in your very heart; let the bone, that livid lightning, dazzle and blind you,

its blue crest and the will-o'-the-wisp stream of shadow. along the gulfs and chasms

105 OCTAVIO PAZ

En esa sombra Kquida del sueno moja tu desnudez; abandona tu forma, espuma que no se sabe quien dejo en la orilla; pierdete en ti, infinita, en tu infinito ser, mar que se pierde en otro mar : olvidate y olvidame.

En ese olvido sin edad ni fondo labios., besos, amor, todo,, renace : las estrellas son hijas de la noche.

106 OCTAVIO PAZ

In that liquid shade of sleep drench your nakedness; renounce your form, that lace of spume left on the shore by whom ? "Woman infinite, lose yourself in your infinite self, a sea merging with another sea : forget yourself, forget me.

In that oblivion ageless and unplumed all things, lips, kisses, love, have their rebirth : the stars are daughters of the night.

D. F.

107 JAIME TORRES BODET

CH/DAD

RECUERDO ahora un sueiio de coiera y de viento a cien, a cien kilometxos en que los automoviles estampan tropeles de fantasmas sobre paredes de papel poroso.

Un sueiio que colgaba en las pantallas de los anuncios electricos musculos3 brazes^ piernas, rios de sombra y bosques de blancura paises numerados del Atlas de esa enorme Geografia que ensenan los adetas en los circos.

Un sueiio en que el frio escarchaba las miradas con un barniz opaco, de parpados de hielo.

El publico necesltaba pedir anteojos de humo para ver la sangre de las lunas amarillas en el clavel profesional con que la risa quema de pronto la cara de los payasos.

Recuerdo un sueno en que se entraba por el techo a un taller de maniqufes de cera, higienico y cerebral como un Museo de Escultnra o un anfiteatro de Hospital.

108 JAIME TORRES BODET

CMTY

Now I remember a dream of rage and of wind at a hundred, a hundred kilometers where automobiles print a jumble of apparitions on cardboard walls.

A dream that hung on screens of electric signs muscles, arms, legs, rivers of shadow and woods of whiteness numbered countries out of the Atlas of that huge Geography that athletes teach in circuses.

A dream in which frost glazed the stare with an opaque varnish, eyelids of ice.

The public had to get smoked glasses in order to see the blood of the yellow moons in the professional carnation that laughter suddenly burns on the faces of clowns.

I remember a dream of entering through the roof into a wax manikin shop, hygienic and mental as a Museum of Sculpture or hospital amphitheatre.

109 JAIME TORRES BODET

Las damas extraian de sus estuches enciclopedicos con los dedos que faltan aun a la Venus de Milo una sonrisa articulada

I para la cabeza invisible de que Victoria de Samotracia ?

Y las alcobas envejecian esas esposas morganaticas patrocinando el adulterio de las ventanas con los espejos. Recuerdo una noche de opera wagneriana en que las Reinas ultimas caian fulminadas por una embolia subita de perlas en la circulacion de sus collares.

Un sueno en que los profesores de Fisica del Colegio apresuraban los eclipses para poner un vals en el fonografo que no repite ya los siete compases de la gavota de Newton. Recuerdo sueno la un en que noche, cubierta de periodicos, caia en los desmayada umbrales de las pu'ertas. (El corazon latia dentro del pulso de los hombres exactos a sesenta minutos por segundo.)

TENER, al mediodia, abiertas las ventanas del patio iluminado que mira al comedor. Oler un olor tibio de sol y de manzanas. Decir cosas sencillas: las que inspiren amor no JAIME TORRES BODET

Ladies extracted from their encyclopedic handbags with fingers that even the Venus de Milo lacks a jointed smile for the invisible head of what Winged Victory ? And bedrooms were growing old those morganatic wives sponsoring the adultery of windows and mirrors.

I remember a night of Wagnerian opera where the last Queens fell stricken by a sudden embolism of pearls in the circulation of their necklaces, A dream where the Physics professors at the School hurried up the eclipses in order to get a waltz onto the phonograph that no longer repeats the seven rhythms of Newton's gavotte.

I remember a dream where night, covered with newspapers, fell in a swoon on the thresholds of the doors.

(The heart beat on in the pulse of punctual mortals sixty minutes to the second.) R.H. NOON

To keep, at noon, the windows open where the shining patio looks into the diningroom. To smell the warm smell of apples in the sun. Say simple things, things that awaken love . . . JAIME TORRES BODET

Beber un agua pura> y en el vaso profundo ver coincidir los angulos de la estancia cordial. Palpar, en un duirazno, la redondez del mundo. Saber que todo cambia y que todo es igual.

al fin en las Sentirse, \ I, maduro, para ver, cosas,

las : el . . . nada mas que cosas el pan5 sol, la mlel Ser el nada mas hombre que deshoja unas rosas5 y graba, con la una, un nombre en el mantel

LLAIVIA que por morir mas pronto se levanta, flotas entre las brasas de la danza.

Y te arranca de ti, al principiar, un salto tan esbelto que el sitio en que bailabas se queda sin atmosfera.

Asi el pedazo negro de la noche en que paso un lucero.

Pero de pronto vuelves del torbellino de las formas a la inmovilidad que te acechaba y ocupas, como un vestido exacto, el hueco de tu propla figura.

Pareces una cosa caida en el espejo de un recuerdo : te bisela el declive del tiempo. JAIME TORRES BODET

To drink a pure water, and deep in the glass behold the fusing angles of the friendly room. To touch, in a peach, the roundness of the world. To know that all changes and is still the same.

To feel finally ! ripeness of seeing in every thing the simple thing itself: bread, honey, sun . . . To be merely the man who strips the petalled roses, and with his nail inscribes a name on the tablecloth . , R.H.

FLAME rising the sooner to die, you hover among the embers of the dance, plucked from yourself, at the very start, by so lithe a leap that the place where you were dancing hangs like a void.

So the dark space of night when a great star has gone by.

But suddenly you return from the whirlwind of forms to the immobility that stalked about you, and you invest, like an exact garment, the hollow of your own figure.

You seem a thing fallen into the mirror of a memory: bevelled by the edge of time. JAIME TORRES BODET

Un minuto despues, estas desnuda . . .

La brisa te peina en ondulado movimiento y a cada nueva linea que las flautas dibujan en la musica obedece una linea de tu cuerpo.

No resoneis ahora, cimbalos, que la danza es como el sueno.

mums

Shall I compare thee to a Summer's day? W. SHAKESPEAHE

LE toque entre la rubia y delicada pulpa ^ de que fruta ? el hueso negro y aspero al verano.

Y me senti de pronto, ante la muda sinceridad cruel de la semilla, como quien halla en una tumba el nombre de la mujer que nunca imaginara, en vida, sustentada por el recondito esqueleto de miseria, de colera y de tedio que todavia, muerta, la desnuda.

AMOR

PARA escapar de ti no bastan ya peldanos, tuneles^ aviones, telefonos o barcos* Todo lo que se va

14 JAIME TORRES BODET

A moment later, you are naked . . .

The wind dresses you in undulating motion, and to each new line that flutes trace in music, an answering line of your body is obedient.

Resound no more,

: this cymbals dance is like a sleep. R.H.

CORE

Shall I compare thee to a Summer's day? W. SHAKESPEARE

I TOUCHED amid the blond

and delicate flesh of what fruit ? the black harsh pit of the summer.

And I suddenly felt, before

the seed's mute, cruel sincerity, like one finding on a tomb the name of the woman never

imagined, living, as sustained by the hidden skeleton of misery, of anger, of boredom which even after death exposes her. Af.L.

LOVE

IN order to escape you, stairs are no longer enough,

nor tunnels, nor airplanes,

telephones, nor ships. All that accompanies JAIME TORRES BODET

con el hombre que escapa: el silencio, la voz, los trenes y los anos, no sirve para huir de este recinto exacto

sin horas ni reloj, sin ventanas ni cuadros

que a todas partes va conmigo, cuando viajo.

Para escapar de ti necesito un cansancio

nacido de ti misma: una duda, un rencor, la vergiienza de un llanto; el miedo que me dio por ejemplo poner sobre tu fragil nombre la forma impropia y dura

y brusca de mis labios . . .

El odio que senti nacer al mismo tiempo en ti que nuestro amor, me hara salir de tu alma mas pronto que la luz, mas de prisa que el sueno, con mayor precision el que ascensor mas raudo : el odio que el amor esconde entre las manos.

AJffiRIJL

donde? En que lugar secreto del invierno esta oculto el boton

116 JAIME TORRES BODET the man escaping: silence, speech, the trains and the years, avails not to flee from this precise corner- without clock or hours or windows or pictures that goes with me wherever I go.

In order to escape you I need a weariness born of you yourself: a doubt or a rancour, the shame of a weeping; the fear that I felt

(for example) shaping unfitly with my lips, harsh and brusque, your frail name

The hatred that I sensed being born simultaneously in you with our love, will thrust me forth from your soul sooner than light, quicker than dream, with greater precision than the swiftest elevator: the hatred which love hides between its hands. M.L. APMSL

WHERE? In what secret place of winter is hidden the electric

117 JAIME TORRES BODET

mecanlco, la rosa, el vals o la mujer que un dedo sin esfuerzo deberia tocar para ponerte en marcha, automatico abril de un aiio descompuesto ?

Lo siento. Estas ya aqui, junto a mi pensamiento, como sobre el cristal de una ventana oscura- la exigencia sin voz de un aletazo terco.

Pero, si salgo a abrir, lo unico que encuentro

es la noche, otra vez : la noche y el silencio.

I Palabras ? Para que ? En ellas, por mementos,

creo tocarte al fin3

abril * . . Pero las digo raiz, pajarOj luz y me contesta el viento : invierno; invierno el so!3 y soledad los ecos.

Libros de viaje busco. Mapas de amor despliego. A rostros de mujeres que hace tiempo murieron, en retratos y en cartas pregunto como eras; que nubes o que alondras fueron, en otros puertos,

118 JAIME TORRES BODET

button rose, waltz, or woman that a finger should press without effort to set you moving, automatic April of a run-down year?

I feel it You are here close to my thought, as upon the pane of a darkened window beats the mute urgency of a persistent wing.

if I But go to open it, all that I find is the night once again: night and the silence.

Words? For what?

In them at times

I feel that I touch you at last, April ... But I say them root, bird, light and the wind answers me. Winter'; Winter/ the sun; and 'Loneliness/ the echoes.

I search out books of travel I unfold maps of love. Of the faces of women who died long ago, in in portraits and letters, I ask what you were like; what clouds, what skylarks were, in other harbours,

119 JAIME TORRES BODET de tu regreso eterno credulos mensajeros.

Pero nadie te ha visto llegar, abriL A nadie puedo pedir consejo para esperarte. Nadie conoce tus andenes, sino acaso este ciego que pugna por hallar a tientas, en mis versos, el secreto boton que pone en marcha al mundo cuando vacila el sol y dudan los inviernos . . *

120 JAIME TORRES BODET the trustful messengers of your endless return.

But no one has seen you come, April Of no one can I ask advice for awaiting you. No one knows your railway platforms, save, perhaps, this sightless creature that, groping, strives to find in my verses the secret button that sets the world moving when the sun hesitates and winters doubt* . .

B. L C.

121 DEMETRIO HERRERA S.

EL mar boxeador rapid tiene de pun ching ball

a los barqufllos inquietos.

Con la toalla del viento3 la tarde frota el cuerpo sudoroso del boxer.

Los edificios fanaticos del ring contemplan apinados el gran entrenamiento.

(El muelle cuchichea

con un vapor que fuma) . .

Y un aplauso de ola hace empinar la torre

con el relo} en mano para llevar el tiempo.

Chiquillos vagabundos, los pajaros marinos, se cuelan por el techo. DEMETRIOHERRERAS.

TRAINING

THE sea quick pugilist- uses for a pun ching ball the restless little boats.

With the towel of the wind, evening rubs down the boxer's sweaty body.

The buildings- ringside fans- crowd close to watch the big training.

(The dock is whispering

a . with smoking ship. .)

And the surfs applause makes the tower stand on tiptoe with its watch in hand to keep the time.

Stray kids, the sea-birds

sneak in through the roof.

D.F.

123 MANUEL BANDEIRA

DO

RECIFE Nao a Veneza americana Nao a Mauritsstad dos armadores das Indias Ocidentais Nao o Recife dos Mascates Nem mesmo o Recife que aprendi a amar depois Recife revolu$oes libertarias Mas o Recife sem historia nem literatura Recife sem mais nada Recife da minha infancia

A rua da Uniao onde eu brincava de chicote queimado e parria as vidrafas da casa de dona Aninha Viegas Totonio Rodrigues era muito velho e botava o pincene ponta do nariz Depois do jantar as familias tomavam a cal^ada com cadeir mexericos namoros risadas A gente brincava no meio da rua Os meninos gritavam: Coelho sai! Nao sai! A distancia as vozes macias das meninas politonavam: Roseira da-me uma rosa Craveiro da-me um botao (Dessas rosas muita rosa

Tera morrido em botao * . .)

De repente nos longes da noite um sino Uma pessoa grande dizia: Fogo em Santo Antonio!

124 MANUEL BANDEIRA

SALtJTE TO RECIFE

RECIFE Not the Venice of America

Not the Mauritsstad of the merchant adventurers to the West Indies

Not the Recife of Levantine peddlars Not the Recife I learned to love afterwards the Recife of libertarian revolutions

But a Recife without history or literature A Recife remarkable for nothing The Recife of my childhood

Union Street where I played snap-the-handkerchief and broke the windows of Dona Aninha Viegas' house Totonio Rodrigues was very old and wore his nose-nippers on the end of his nose After dinner the families took their chairs out on the sidewalk

gossiping, making love, laughing Children played games in the middle of the street The boys shouted: Will the rabbit come out ? Or won't he?

off : In the distance the sleek voices of little girls sang slightly key Rose tree give me a rose Clove tree give me a bud (Of those roses many a rose Died in the bud)

Suddenly far away in the night a bell

One grown-up person said: Fire in Santo Antonio!

125 MANUEL BANDEIRA

Outra contrariava: Sao Jose! Totonio Rodrigues achava sempre que era Sao Jose. Os homens punham o chapeu saiam fumando E eu tinha raiva de ser menino porque nao podia ir ver o fogo

Rua da Uniao . . . Como eram lindos os nomes das ruas da minha infancia Rua do Sol (Tenho medo que hoje se chame do dr, Fulano de Tal)

Atras de casa ficava a rua da Saudade , . .

. . . onde se ia fumar escondido

Do lado de la era o cais da rua da Aurora . . .

. . . onde se ia pescar escondido

Capiberibe Capiberibe La longe o sertaozinho de Caxanga Banheiros de palha

Um dia eu vi uma moga nuinha no banho " Fiquei parado o corajao batendo

Ela se riu .

Foi o meu primeiro alumbramento

Cheia! As cheias! Barro boi morto arvores destrogos redomoinho sumiu E nos pegoes da ponte do trem de ferro os caboclos destemidos em jangadas de bananeiras Novenas Cavalhadas Eu me deitei no colo da menina e ela comegou a passar a mao nos meus cabelos Capiberibe Capiberibe

126 MANUEL BANDEIRA

Another, contradicting him, Sao Jose! Totonio Rodrigues insisted it was in Sao Jose. The men put on their hats and went out smoking And I was furious because I was a child and could not go to the fire

Union Street . . .

What lovely names they had, the streets of my childhood Street of the Sun

(Nowadays, I fear, it is called after Dr. So-and-so) Behind our house was the Street of Regretful Longing . ,

. . . where I went to smoke on the sly

Not far away, on the water front, was the Street of Dawn . .

. . . where I went to fish on the sly

Capiberibe Capiberibe There beneath the tangled woods of Caxanga Bath-houses of straw

One day I saw a young woman bathing without a stitch I stood still with beating heart She laughed For the first time I was aware

Flood-time! The river-floods! Slime, dead oxen, uprooted trees submerged in the eddies And in the whirlpools under the railway bridge the reckless half-breeds on rafts of banana trees Novenas Riding on horses I lay in the girFs lap and she began to run her hand through my hair Capiberibe Capiberibe

127 MANUEL BANDEIRA

Rua da Uniao onde todas as tardes passava a preta das bananas Com o chale vistoso de pano da Costa E o vendedor de roletes de cana O de amendolm que se chamava midubim e nao era torrado era cozido Me lembro de todos os pregoes: Ovos frescos e baratos Dez ovos por uma pataca Foi ha muito tempo .

A vida nao me chegava pelos jornais nem pelos livros Vinha da boca do povo na lingua errada do povo Lingua certa do povo Porque ele e que fala gostoso o portugues do Brasil Ao passo que nos O que fazemos E macaquear A sintaxe lusfada A vida com uma porfao de coisas que eu nao entendia bern Terras que nao sabia onde ficavam

Recife . . .

Rua da Uniao . . .

A casa de meu avo . .

Nunca pensei que ela acabasse! Tudo la parecia impregnado de eternidade

Recife . . .

Meu avo morto . . .

Recife morto, Recife bom, Recife brasileiro como a casa de meu avo.

128 MANUEL BANDEIRA

Union Street where every afternoon the negress with bananas went by In her gaudy African shawl And the man who sold stalks of sugar-cane And the peanuts which were called tnidubim and were not roasted but boiled

I remember all the street-cries: Eggs fresh and cheap Ten eggs for a pataca

That was long ago . . .

Life did not come to me through newspapers or books It came on the lips of the people in the rude language of the people The apt language of the people For it is they who speak with gusto the Portuguese of Brazil To a tune of our own What we do Is to ape The Lusitanian syntax Life with a parcel of things I did not clearly understand Countries of whose existence I did not know

Recife . . .

Union Street . . .

My grandfather's house . . .

Never did I think it would all come to an end! Everything there seemed imbued with eternity

Recife . . .

My grandfather dead . . .

Dead Recife, good Recife, Recife as Brazilian as my grandfather's house. D.P. 129 MANUEL BANDEIRA

NA mSJA BO SABA

CAI cai balao Cai cai balao

Na ru-a do Sa-bao I . . .

O que custou arranjar aquele balaozinho de papel ! Quern fez foi o filho da lavadeira. Um que trabalha na composigao do jornal e tosse muito.

Comprou o papel de seda, cortou-o com amor, compos os

gomos oblongos . . . Depois ajustou o morrao de pez ao bocal de arame.

Ei-lo agora que sobe, pequena coisa tocante na escuridao do ceu

Levou tempo para criar f61ego. Bambeava, tremia todo e mudava de cor. A molecada da rua do Sabao Gritava com maldade: Cai cai balao!

Subitamente, porem, entesou, enfunou-se e arrancou das maos que o tenteavam.

E foi subindo * . .

para longe . . .

serenamente . . .

Como se o enchesse o soprinho tfsico do Jose.

Cai cai balao!

A molecada salteou-o com atiradeiras assobios apupos pedradas.

30 MANUEL BANDEIRA

IN S0A&SXJ&S STREET

COME down! Come down, balloon! Come down! Come down, balloon!

In Soapsuds Street! . .

What it cost to contrive that tiny paper balloon!

It was the son of the laundress who made it, A boy who worked as typesetter on the newspaper and coughed all the time.

fitted He bought the tissue paper, lovingly cut it, the narrow

sections together . . . Then adjusted the tarred wick to the wire mouthpiece.

Now up it goes, so small, so touching, in the dusky sky.

It took time to fill. It swayed, trembled all over and changed color. The little black brats of Soapsuds Street Yelled with malice: Come down! Come down, balloon!

Yet suddenly it stretched, filled and pulled away from the hands that held it

And began to rise . . . higher and higher . . . serenely . . .

Buoyant with Jose's phthisic breath.

Come down! Come down, balloon!

The little brats attacked it with slings jeers catcalls stones MANUEL BANDEIRA

Caicaibalao!

Um senhor advertiu que os haloes sao prohibidos pelas posturas municipals.

Ekj foi subindo . . .

muito serenamente . . .

para muito longe . . .

Nao caiu na rua do Sabao.

Caiu muito longe . . . Caiu no mar, nas aguas puras do mar alto.

MOXAHT NO JBU

No dia 5 de dezembro de 1791 Wolfgang Amadeus Mo- zart entrou no ceu, como urn artista de circo, fazendo piruetas extraordinarias sobre um mirabolante cavalo branco.

Os anjinhos atonitos diziam: Que foi? Que nao foi? Melodias jamais-ouvidas voavam nas linhas suplementares superiores da pauta. Um momento se suspendeu a contemplafao inefaveL A Virgem beijouo na testa E desde entao Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart foi o mais mogo dos anjos.

A MATA

A MATA agita-se, revoluteia, contorce-se toda e sacode-se! A mata hoje tern alguma coisa para dizer. E e contorce-se ulula, toda, como a atriz de uma pantomina tragica,

132 MANUEL BANDEIRA

Come down! Come down, balloon!

A gentleman warned that balloons were prohibited by city regulations.

Still, it went on mounting . . .

ever so calmly . .

ever so high . . .

It did not fall in Soapsuds Street. It fell far away ... It fell in the sea, in the pure waves of the open sea. D.P.

MOZART IN MEAVEN

ON the 5th of December 1791 Wolfgang Amadeus Mo- zart entered heaven as a circus performer, turning mar- velous pirouettes on a dazzling white horse.

The small astonished angels said: Who can that be? Who in the world can that be ? As never-before-heard melodies began to soar Line after line above the staff. For a moment the ineffable contemplation paused. The Virgin kissed him on the forehead And from then on Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart was the youngest of the angels. D.P.

THE WOODS

THE woods toss and whirl and writhe and shake themselves from end to end! Today the woods have something to tell. And they howl and strain, root and branch, like an actress in a tragic play.

133 MANUEL BANDEIRA

Cada galho rebelado Inculca a mesma perdida ansia. Todos eles sabem o mesmo segredo panico. On entao e que pedem desesperadamente a mesma instante coisa.

Que sabera a mata? Que pedira a mata? Pedira agua ? Mas a agua despenhou-se ha pouco, fustigando-a, escorra^ando-a,, saciando-a como aos alarves. Pedira o fogo para a purificafao das necroses milenarias ? Ou nao pede nada, e quer falar e nao pode ? Tera surpreendido o segredo da terra pelos ouvidos finissimos das suas raizes ?

A mata agita-se, revoluteia, contorce-se toda e sacode-se! A mata esta hoje como uma multidao em dellrio coletivo.

So uma tou^a de bambus, a parte,

Balouga levemente . . . levemente . , . levemente . . . E parece sorrir do delirio geral.

CACTO

AQUELE cacto lembrava os gestos desesperados da estatuaria: Laocoonte constrangido pelas serpentes, Ugolino e os filhos esfaimados. Evocava tambem o seco nordeste ? carnaiibais, caatingas . . ,

Era enorme, mesmo para esta terra de feracidades excepcionais.

134 MANUEL BANDEIRA

Every rebellious branch Betrays the same frantic anxiety. All feel the same secret fear.

Or if not, then they are all desperately begging the same urgent thing.

What do the woods know ? What are the woods beseeching ? Are they begging water ? But the water fell in floods only just now, whipping them, beating them, shaking them without mercy. Are they begging fire to cleanse themselves of the century-old dry rot ? Or do they ask for nothing ? Do they merely wish to speak and cannot?

Have they surprised the earth's secret through the delicate ears of their roots ?

The woods toss, whirl, strain and shake from end to end! Today the woods are like a mob in collective delirium.

Only a single tuft of bamboos, standing somewhat apart, Sways ever so lightly, so lightly, so very lightly, As if smiling at the general madness. D.P.

THE CACTUS

That cactus recalled the despairing gestures of marble: Laocoon strangled by the serpents, Ugolino and his famished sons. It called to mind also the dry northeast, the parched wilderness, the bush.

It was enormous, even for this land so monstrously fertile.

135 MANUEL BANDEIRA

Um dia um tufao furibundo abateu-o pela raiz. O cacto tombou atravessado na rua, Quebrou os beirais do casario fronteiro, Impediu o transito de bondes, automoveis, carrogas, Arrebentou os cabos eletricos e durante vinte e quatro horas privou a cidade de ilumina^ao e energia:

Era beta, aspero, intrataveL

A ESWHAI9A

ESTA estrada onde moro, entre duas voltas do carninho, Interessa mais que uma avenida urbana. Nas cidades todas as pessoas se parecem. Todo o mundo e igual. Todo o mundo e toda a gente. Aqui, nao: sente-se bem que cada um traz a sua alma. Cada criatura e unica. Ate os caes.

Estes caes da roa parecem homens de negocios: Andam sempre preocupados.

E quanta gente vem e vai! E tudo tern aquele carater impressivo que az meditar: Enterro a pe ou a carrocinha de leite puxada por um bodezinho manhoso. falta a Nem murmurio da agua, para sugerir pela voz dos sfmbolos

Que a vida passa! que a vida passa! E que a mocidade vai acabar.

NOMTE WORTA

Noite morta. Junto ao poste de ilumina^ao Os sapos engolem mosquitos.

136 MANUEL BANDEIRA

One day an angry gust uprooted it.

The cactus fell across the street. Demolished the eaves of the houses across the way, Obstructed the passage of streetcars, automobiles, wagons; Tore down the electric wires, and during twenty-four hours deprived the city of light and power:

It was beautiful, harsh, intractable. D.P. THE HIGHWAY

THIS street where I live, between two bends of the road,

Is more interesting than a city avenue. In towns all the people look alike. Everyone is alike. Everyone is everybody. not so it is that has a soul of his own. Here, ; plain everyone Every creature is unique, Even to the dogs. These country dogs have the air of business men: They are always preoccupied.

And how many people come and go! Each with a character so distinct as to start a whole train of meditation:

The funeral procession on foot or the little milk cart drawn by a crafty he-goat. Nor is there lacking a murmur of water, to suggest by the voice of symbols That life is passing, that life is passing, And that youth comes to an end. D.P. BEAD OF NIGHT

IN the dead of night Beside the lamp post The toads are gulping mosquitoes.

137 MANUEL BANDEIRA

Ninguem passa na estrada. Nem um bebedo.

No entanto M seguramente por ela uma procissao de sombras. Sombras de todos os que passaram. Os que ainda vivem e os que ja morreram.

O corrego chora.

A voz da noite . . .

(Nao desta noite, mas de outra maior.)

13* MANUEL BANDEIRA

No one passes in the street, Not even a drunkard.

Nevertheless there is certainly a procession of shadows: Shadows of all those who have passed, Of those who are still alive and those already dead.

The stream weeps in its bed. The voice of the night . . .

(Not of this night, but of one yet vaster.) D.P.

139 ENRIQUE BUSTAMANTE Y BALLIVIAN

JE7JL

, largo, solo en la cumbre, colgado de los alambres esta el poste del telegrafo.

A traves de los vidrios del sleeping-car miro a Cristo clavado en el, con los brazos abiertos.

No sufre. Con sus manos, con sus pies que sangran, esta tranquilo y diafano.

Los alambres, electxlzandose se estremecen, palpitan, llevan palabras, deseos.

Cristo desfallece* Ninguna de las palabras es la que espera, la que viene de su padre.

140 ENRIQUE BUSTAMANTE Y BALLIVIAN

TJEJLEGRAPIT

black,, alone on the hill-top, hanging from wires is the telegraph pole.

Through the panes of the sleeping-car I see Christ nailed upon it with outflung arms.

He does not suffer. With his hands, "with his feet that bleed, he is calm, transparent.

The wires, electrified, shudder, palpitate, bear words, desires.

Christ swoons. None of the words is the word he awaits, the word coining from his Father. ENRIQUE BUSTAMANTE Y BALLIVIAN

Ninguna dice de Dlos.

La golondrina que aun tienc en el pedtio bianco sabor de cascarones, juntas las manos, le dice aquello que nunca llevaran los alambres en el alfabeto de Morse. ENRIQUE BUSTAMANTE Y BALLIVIAN

Not one speaks of God.

The swallow which still bears on its breast the white taste of the shell^ with joined hands^ tells him what the wires will never carry in Morse code. M.L.

143 RONALD DE CARVALHO

AffERCADO JJE7

MERCADO de Trinidad na tepidez molhada da manha! Dourados tropicais de asas e frutas, verdes maritimos franjados de alcatrazes, mar de corais, fogos de madreperolas ao sol.

Das cestas de vime rolam ananases de escamas oxidadas, o amarelo e o vermelho dos papagaios riscam o ar, as mangas queimam penumbras de folhas murchas, a terra e uma vibra^ao de coloridos.

Sobe das faluas o aroma grosso do breu e do alcatrao, c ha deuses de bronze no azul da vaga, no azul da vaga tremula e faiscante . . .

Mercado de Trinidad na tepidez molhada da manha! Por tras dos mastros e cordames pardos, na cinta elastica das bananeiras e dos limoeiros, espiam cottages e bungalows, E, s6bre as livres solidoes selvagens, entre e araras, tucanos, goiabeiras coqueirais3 passeia gravefnente, de capacete branco^ a ruiva sentinela do Forte colonial . .

INTERIOR

POETA dos tropicos, tua sala de jantar e simples e modesta como um tranquilo pomar; 144 RONALD DE CARVALHO

TRINIDAD MARKET

MARKET of Trinidad in the warm moist morning! Tropical golds of wings and fruits, ocean greens edged by pelicans, seas of coral, fires of mother-of-pearl in the sun.

From wicker baskets roll pineapples with rusty scales, yellow and scarlet parrots flash through the air, mangoes burn the penumbra of tarnished leaves, and the earth vibrates with colours.

Up from the ships comes a reek of pitch and tar, and there are gods of bronze in the blue of the waves, in the blue of the sparkling and tremulous waves . . ,

Market of Trinidad in the warm moist morning! Beyond the gray masts and the rigging, from the swaying girdle of banana and lemon trees, peep cottages and bungalows. And against the wild free solitudes, among parrots, toucans, palms and guava trees, in a white helmet gravely paces

the fair-haired sentry of the colonial fort . . . D.P.

INTERIOR

POET of the tropics, your dining room is simple and unpretending as a quiet orchard;

145 RONALD DE CARVALHO

no aquario transparente, cheio de agua limosa, nadam peixes vermelhos, dourados e cor de rosa;

entra pelas verdes venezianas uma poeira luminosa, de sol e uma poeka ? tremula silenciosa,

uma poeka de luz que aumenta a solidao. Abre a tua janela de par em par. La fora, sob o ceu do verao,

todas as arvores estao cantando ! Cada folha

e um passaro, cada folha e uma cigarra, cada folha

e um som . . .

O ar das chacaras cheira a capim melado, e ervas pisadas, a baunilha, a mato quente e abafado.

Poeta dos tropicos, da-me no teu copo de vidro colorido um gole d'agua. (Como e linda a paisagem no cristal de um copo d'agua!)

BRASIL

NESTA hora de sol puro palmas paradas pedras polidas claridades faiscas cintilagoes

Eu ouo o canto enorme do Brasil! Eu o ouo tropel dos cavalos de Iguassu correndo na ponta das rochas nuas, empinando-se no ar molhado, batendo^ com as de p^tas agua na manha de bolhas e pingos verdes;

146 RONALD DE CARVALHO in the transparent bowl, full of weedy water, swim the vermilion fishes, the golden, the pink; through the green shutters comes a shining dust, a dust of sun-motes, inconstant and without sound, a dust of light that increases the solitude. Open your window wide. Outside, under the summer sky, all the trees are singing! Every leaf is a bird, every leaf is a cicada, every leaf is a sound . . .

The air of the lonely farms smells of sweet grass, of trampled undergrowth, of vanilla, of hot and sultry woods.

Poet of the tropics, water, give me, in your goblet of coloured glass, a draught of (How lovely the landscape, reflected in a glass of water!) D.P.

BRAZIL

IN this hour of pure sunlight still palms shining rocks flashes gleams scintillations

I hear the vast song of Brazil! I hear the thundering steeds of Iguassu pounding the naked with rocks, prancing in the wet air, trampling watery feet the morning of spume and green trills;

147 RONALD DE CARVALHO

Eu ougo a tua grave melodia, a tua barbara e grave melodia, Amazonas, a melodia da tua onda lenta de oleo espesso, que se avoluma e se avoluma, lambe o barro das barrancas, morde raizes, puxa ilhas e empurra o oceano mole como um touro picado de farpas, varas, galhos e folhagens; Eu ouO a terra que estala no vento quente do nordeste, a terra que ferve na planta do pe de bronze do cangaceiro, a terra que se esboroa e rola em surdas bolas pelas estradas de Joazeiro, e quebra-se em crostas secas, esturricadas no Crato chato; Eu ou$o o chiar das caatingas trilos, pios, pipios, trinos, assobios, zumbidos, bicos que picam, bordoes que ressoam retesos, timpanos que vibram limpidos, papos asas zinem zinem rezinem que estufam, que 3 cris-cris, cicios, cismas, cismas longas, langues caatingas

debaixo do ceu ! Eu ougo os arroios que riem, pulando na garupa dos dourados gulosos, mexendo com os bagres no limo das luras e das locas; Eu oufo as moendas espremendo canas, o gluglu do mel escorrendo nas tachas, o tinir das tigelinhas nas seringueiras; e machados que disparam caminiios, e serras que toram troncos, e matilhas de "Corta-Vento", "Rompe-Perro", "Faiscas" e "Tubaroes" acuando sussuaranas e magarocas, e mangues borbulhand^ na luz, e caitetus tatalando as queixadas para os jacares que dormem

no tejuco morno dos igapos . . .

Eu oujo todo o Brasll cantand^, zumbindo, gritando, vociferando! RMes se que balanfam} sereias que apitam, RONALD DE CARVALHO

I hear thy solemn melody, thy barbaric and solemn melody, Amazon, the melody of thy lazy flood, heavy as oil, that swells greater and ever greater, licking the mud of banks, gnawing roots, dragging along islands, goring the listless ocean like a bull infuriated with rods, darts, branches and leaves; I hear the earth crackling in the hot northeast wind, earth that heaves beneath the bare bronze foot of the outlaw, earth that turns to dust and whirls in silent clouds through the streets of Joazeiro and falls to powder on the dry plains of Crato;

I hear the chirping of jungles trills, pipings, peepings, quavers, whistles, whirrings, tapping of beaks, deep tones that hum like taut wires, clearly vibrating drums, throats that creak, wings that click and flicker, cries like the cricket's, whispers, dreamy calls, long languid calls jungles beneath the sky! I hear the streams laughing, dashing the flanks of greedy golden carp, disturbing the bearded catfish in their oozy holes and hiding-places beneath submerged stones; I hear the millstones grinding sugar cane, the gurgle of sweet juice flowing into vats, the clank of pails among rubber trees; and axes opening paths, and saws cutting timber, and packs of hounds named Wind-cutters, Iron-breakers, Flashes and Sharks holding at bay the red leopards and the jaguars, and mangroves leafing in the sun, in the and peccaries snapping their jaws at alligators asleep tepid mud of bayous . . .

I hear all Brazil singing, humming, calling, shouting! Hammocks swaying, whistles blowing,

149 RONALD DE CARVALHQ

usinas que rangem, martelam, arfam, estridulam, ululain e roncam, tubos que explodem, guindastes que giram, rodas que batem, trilhos que trepidam, rumor de coxilhas e planaltos, campainhas, rellnchos, aboiados e mugidos, repiques de sinos, estouros de foguetes, OuroPreto, Baia, Congonhas, Sabara, vaias de Bolsas empinando numeros como papagaios, tumulto de ruas que saracoteiam sob arranha-ceus, vozes de todas as ragas que a maresia dos portos joga no sertao!

Nesta hora de sol puro eu oupD o Brasil. Todas as tuas conversas, patria morena^ correm pelo ar , . . a conversa dos fazendeiros nos cafezais^ a conversa dos mineiros nas galerias 4e ouro,

- a conversa dos operarios nos fornos de ago, a conversa dos garimpeiros, peneirando as bateias, a conversa . dos coroneis nas varandas das rogas . .

Mas o que eu ougo, antes de tudo, nesta hora de sol puro palmas paradas pedras polidas claridades brilhos faiscas cintilagoes e o canto dos teus beros 3 Brasil, de todos esses teus ber?os, onde a dorme, com boca escorrendo leite, moreno, confiante, o homem de amanha!

150 RONALD DE CARVALHO

factories grinding, pounding, panting, screaming, howling and snoring, cylinders exploding, cranes revolving, wheels turning, rails trembling, noises of foothills and plateaux, cattlebells, neighings, cowboy songs, and lowings, chiming of bells, bursting of rockets, Ouro-Preto, Baia, Congonhas, Sabara, clamour of stock-exchanges shrieking numbers like parrots, tumult of streets that seethe beneath skyscrapers, voices of all the races that the wind of the seaports tosses into the jungle!

In this hour of pure sunlight I hear Brazil. All thy conversations, tawny homeland, wander in the air . . the talk of planters among coffee bushes, the talk of miners in gold mines, the talk of workmen in furnaces where steel is made, the talk of diamond- hunters shaking seives, the talk of colonels on the verandas of country houses . . .

But what I hear, above all, in this hour of pure sunlight still palms shining rocks flashes gleams scintillations is the song of thy cradles, Brazil, of all thy cradles, in which there sleeps, mouth dripping with milk, dusky, trusting, the man of tomorrow! ZXP. MENOTTI DEL PICCHIA

OKBCO

O BECO ao crepusculo e uma paisagem de limbo um carvao de Steinleiru Mulheres endomingadas atravancam as cal^adas onde homens sisudos de bragos peludos fumam cachimbo.

Um rancho infantil o silencio desinancha e a cangao se desata: Senhora D. Sancha

coberta de ouro e prata . . .

Salta de uma janela um gramofone rouco que rasca range ri parece louco.

Brusco cessa. O silencio desce pelas almas. Nos ceus ardem constelagoes.

Passa o acendedor de lampioes como um magico doido que andasse a semear estrelas

DA GUANABARA

O Pao de Agucar e um pescador filosofo de costas voltadas para o mar. Fisga com um anzol errante nos fios dependurado eletricos da sua vara de pesca meia duzia de ingleses "globe-trotters" e uma "miss" triste como Lady Godyva.

152 MENOTTI DEL PICCHIA

NAMMOW STREET

AT dusk the narrow street is a landscape in Limbo a drawing in charcoal by Steinlein. Girls in their Sunday best crowd upon the pavements where thoughtful men with hairy arms smoke their pipes.

Playing children startle the silence with a burst of singing: Senhora Dona Sancha

clothed in gold and silver . . .

Out of a window leaps a raucous phonograph, scraping and shrieking in delirium.

Suddenly it is still. Silence descends upon all souls. Constellations are kindled in the skies.

The lamplighter passes like a spendthrift magician scattering stars . . . zx R

BAY OF GVJANAJBAMA

THE Sugar Loaf is a philosophic fisherman with his back turned to the sea. He hooks, with a wandering hook hanging from the electric wires of his fishing pole, half a dozen English tourists and a young miss as forlorn as Lady Godiva.

153 MENOTTI DEL PICCHIA

A Urea o ermitao taciturno resiste petreamente a tentagao das nuvens que dansam em seu redor como mulheres nuas. Na sua salva de prata a baia oferta os peixes irrequietos das ondas preparados na salsa branca da espuma. Os cargueiros alcatroados, rijos operarios atlanticos olham com inveja fumando o cachimbo das chamines enormes a elegancia internacional dos "yachts" e o fausto enfastiado dos transatlanticos de luxo.

Uma barca ondulante acena o tropismo racial e nomade das travessias e marca com a proa aguda a tentagao oceanica das viagens.

Sobre a paisagem marinha uma gaivota acrobatica faz Ioopings-the4oopings par^ divertir os catraeiros.

E o mar canta no cais nostalgico a sinfonia de Mgrimas e solugos de as . todas despedidas . .

154 MENOTTI DEL PICCHIA

The Urea, a taciturn hermit, stonily resists the temptings of the clouds that dance about him like naked women.

The Bay, on its silver platter, offers the restless fishes of the flood poached in a white sauce of foam. The tarry freighters, tough Atlantic workmen, eye with envy, smoking the pipes of enormous funnels, the international elegance of yachts and the bored splendour of luxurious liners.

A rocking schooner hints of restless race-old longing for the open sea and with its pointed bow sharpens the temptation of far voyages.

Against the marine backdrop an acrobatic seagull loops the loop to amuse the bumboats.

And the sea sings, along the homesick quay, the tearful and sighing melody of all farewells . . D.P.

155 MIGUEL ANGEL ASTURIAS

JHVJDJTOS

Los rNDios bajan de Mixco cargados de azul oscuro y la ciudad les recibe con las calles asustadas por un manojo de luces que, como estrellas, se apagan al venir la madrugada.

Un ruido de corazones dejan sus manos que reman como dos remos al viento; y de sus pies van quedando como plantillas las huellas en el polvo del camino.

Las estrellas que se asoman a Mixco, en Mixco se quedan, porque los indios las cogen para canastos que llenan con gallinas y floronas blancas de izote dorado.

Es mas callada la vida de los indios que la nuestra, y cuando bajan de Mixco solo se escucha el jadeo que a veces silba en sus labios como serpiente de seda.

156 MIGUEL ANGEL ASTURIAS

JTZIUNLdLlVS COMJE I&OW2V JFJROMf iOTXCO

Indians come down from Mixco laden with deep blue and the city with its frightened streets receives them with a handful of lights that, like stars, are extinguished when daybreak comes.

A sound of heartbeats is in their hands that stroke the wind like two oars; and from their feet fall prints like little soles in the dust of the road.

The stars that peep out at Mixco stay in Mixco because the Indians catch them for baskets that they fill with chickens and the big white flowers of the golden Spanish bayonet*

The life of the Indians is quieter than ours, and when they come down from Mixco they make no sound but the panting that sometimes hisses on their lips like a silken serpent. IX D. W, R. OLIVARES FIGUEROA

EN un campo bianco, semillitas negras. . .

llueva ! j Que llueva, que

I Sembrador, que sietnbras ? jComo canta el surcol

llueva. , , ! j Que llueva, que

Yo siembro arco-Iris, albas y trompetas !

llueva. . . ! { Que llueva, que

158 R. OLIVARES FIGUEROA

THE SOWER

ON a white field, black little seeds. . .

La it rain! rain!

s 'Sower, what do you sow ?

How the furrow sings!

Let it rain! rain!

1 sow rainbows, dawns and trumpets!* Let it rain! rain! DJ.

159 WINETT DE ROKHA

VAUSE EN A PJLA^A

LA mujer de marmol, desnuda entre sus violetas, se ruboriza al contacto del aire, sus senos de manzana y heliotropo mantienen la melodia provinciana del atardecer languido.

Curvas puras, explosion de vida extasiada,, gota de belleza en suspenso, cantar*

Mis ojos la penetran de castidad y la tarde vuelve la cabeza al sorprenderme en actitud de cubrirle los hombros floridos con mi abrigo de penumbras.

CANClON DE TOMAS, EL, AUSENTE

LA A entrada, en el indice de todos los caminos : tu, de todas las perspectivas, de todas las lontananzas, como el nido de un pajaro que no existio y lo ofmos cantar en nosotros*

Frata de recuerdo, ya estaras cambiado, Tomasito^ en el pais de los muertos, con aquella flor resonante, que txaias en tu manito de hombre escojido por el destino, y esos ojos de ilusion de aventurero.

Voy a deshojar los innumerables pajaros para tu navio de sombra.

160 WINETTDEROKHA

WAJLTZ IN ITCHVGAIT SQUARE

THE marble woman, naked among her violets, blushes at the touch of the air, her breasts of apple and heliotrope sustain the provincial melody of the languid twilight.

Pure curves, explosion of enraptured life, drop of beauty in suspension, song.

My eyes pierce her with innocence and the evening turns its head and catches me in the act of covering her flowering shoulders with my cloak of shadows. H. R. H.

SONG OF THOMAS,

AT the entrance, there where all roads begin: you, all perspectives before you, all distances, like the nest of a bird that never existed, though we heard it sing in ourselves.

Fruit of memory, you shall indeed be changed, Tommy, in the country of the dead, with that echoing flower in your little hand, the hand of a man chosen by destiny, and those eyes beguiled by adventure.

I am going to pluck the leaves from the numberless birds of shadow. for your' ship H. JR. H. H. SANCHEZ QUELL

EJLOCT0 JMB JLA CAHJUE SACCAJOOBEJLO

TORTUOSA calleja, orillada de arboles que a los ojos dan sombra y acarician al alma: tienes, como tu ycua*, la gracia ingenua y fresca de las cosas humildes.

Y un no se que de femenina, oh ! calle Palma del suburbio Vidrieras consteladas de joyas ? No, ni falta que te hacen. Tu, dichosa ries en la cordialidad de tus macetas, mientras te alumbran en las noches los eternos letreros luminosos del cielo.

En una esquina gira loca la calesita

(anoranzas de infancia giran en el recuerdo. . .) Atardece: los chicos se alejan del baldio que poblaron de gritos floridos todo el da. Baldio suburbano^ donde se amalgarnaron el ajetreo urbano y la quletud del campo.

Largo a largo en la tarde se ha tendido el silencio. Preludiando las nuevas del celuloide el 'Cine Progreso' se engalana de carteles chillones. el Tambien barrio tiene sus finas preferencias : adora a Mary Pickford por sus bucles de oro y a Douglas por sus saltos.

. . . Calle Saccarello, la de las tardes claras y los silencios hondos; que entre tus dos fraternas hileras de esmeralda3 ahuyentando la pena, dance eterna la dicha!

* Manantial, en idioma guarani. H. SANCHEZ QUELL

FKAISfE OF SACCAREUM

TWISTING little street, lined with trees that shade the eyes and caress the soul: like your ycud*, you have the fresh and candid grace of humble things.

And a something that is feminine, oh suburban

Palm- Street! . . . Show-windows starry with jewels? No, nor do you miss them. Happily you laugh amid the warmth of your flower-pots, while your nights are lit by the eternal electric signs of the sky.

At a corner the little buggy wheels crazily

in . (a longing for childhood wheels our memories. .) Dusk: the children come back from the vacant lots that they filled all day with their blossoming cries. Suburban lots, where mingled

the city's hubbub and the country quiet

From one end to the other the evening silence has stretched. Announcing a film, the Progress itself with . Theatre decks out noisy posters. Our neighbourhood too has its nice preferences: we adore Mary Pickford for her golden curls and Douglas for his leaps.

Saccarello Street of clear evenings and deep stillnesses : between your two brotherly emerald rows, putting care to flight, may joy eternal dance ! D. F. * 'Spring, fount,' in the Guarani language.

163 JOSE VARALLANOS

TROPEL de montanas es esta nuestra tierra y tu eres el sol, el aire y el agua de todita ella.

Ah mi nifia chola : dureza de azucena, fruta es tu cuerpo, fruta que aroma, antojo de hombres, pecado que nos aloca.

Tus cejas ya vuelan golondrinas sin alas, congona, congonita fior del aire, flor del agua siempre fresca y llena; que por ti no pasa, no pasa el tiempo con stis arados !

Dime que si mi nina ungiiento de malva, ojos luceros, muslos de estxella, dos pies de caramelo* Pero solo el aire^ el aire sabe de tus olores !

164, JOSE VARALLANOS

MOWJNTAM1VS

A ;MOB of mountains is this our land, and you are the sun, the air and the water of every bit of it.

Ah my chola girl: firm as a white lily, your body is a fruit, a sweetsmelling fruit, caprice of men, sin that drives us mad.

Your eyebrows soar wingless swallows , reed-lily., lily bud, blossom of the air, blossom of tjjie water, always fresh, flowering ever, since Time, for you, Time passes never, Time with his plowshares !

Say yes, my little one, unguent of mallow, eyes aglow', thighs like stars, two caramel feet. But the air only, only the air senses your fragrance t M.JL. 165 ALEJANDRO PERALTA

IA AIVBIIVISOTA

EL silencio se desmorona frente a la cabalgata Marejadas de relinchos Brinca el amanecer sobre las penas la aldea desnuda sus vertebras de piedra La campana de la iglesia navega hacia la pampa Bebemos el ler alcohol matinal EL SOL ESTA LIMPIANDO LOS TEJADOS Las calles cuecen su fiambre de palabras En las crines de los caballos enredada la alegria El dia va sujeto a los estribos LEJOS vuela la armazon del pueblo LA PAMPA abre -sus tiendas de montanas

Llenamos de oxigeno nuestras alforjas El camino desdobla sus veredas de tierra firme Del norte viene una polvareda de palomas m i en lo alto es talla la pirotecnia de los loros EN MARCHA Proyectiles de amanecer nuestros ojos perforan la tela del horlzonte El sol va sobre las ancas de los caballos Un cortejo nupcial de indios de la comarca cine la cintura del cerro de gala Monteras de geraneos rebozos como llamaradas refulgen pitos i tamboriles

166 ALEJANDRO PERALTA

SILENCE crumbles before the cavalcade Tides of neighing Dawn leaps over the rocks the hamlet strips its stone vertebrae The churchbell sails toward the pampa We drink the ist morning alcohol THE SUN IS CLEANING THE ROOF-TILES The streets are cooking up their leftover words Joy entangled in the horses' manes Day runs captive to the stirrups PAR OFF flies the framework of the town THE PAMPA the of its mountains f opens up shops We stuff our saddlebags with oxygen The road unfolds its trails of firm ground A dustcloud of doves blows from the north and aloft burst fireworks of parrots ON OUR WAY Projectiles of dawn our eyes riddle the cloth of the horizon The sun passes over the horses' rumps A wedding party of Indians from the district makes a festive girdle around the hill Geranium caps shawls like flames blaze flutes and tabors

167 ALEJANDRO PERALTA

Vicentina la novia espolvorea amapolas i espigas en la manana de lentejuelas I-A L3LAKURA ESTA VERDE DE CANTARES A carrera abierta llevamos el paisaje sobre la grupa como un poncho de colores indios viajeros cimbran el lomo del camino Suda la pampa su cansancio de medio dia Pajaros truncos otean la carnaza de los penascos que duermen La tarde a horcajadas por la ladera Viajeros retrasados han emparedado el sol La tierra esta supurando por los fangos Arrojamos al rfo los penascos de la quebrada Las montanas se alinean apretadas contra la noche El latigo de las riendas corta pedazos den ebl ina El viento deshilado de voces FOGONES DE ANOCHECER LUENAN EL CIELO DE FAROLAS Salvas de ladridos golpean la siendel pueblo EL CAMINO SACTJDE SITS ESPALDAS

168 ALEJANDRO PERALTA

Vicentina the bride sprinkles poppies and barley-stalks on the spangled morning THE PLAIN IS GREEN WITH SONGS At full gallop we carry the landscape on the croup like a manycoloured poncho Indian wayfarers drub the crest of the road The pampa sweats its noontime weariness Birds foreshortened

inspect the stretched hides

of the sleeping rocks Afternoon straddling the slope Belated travellers have walled in the sun The earth is suppurating through mudholes Into the river we toss the stones from the gulch The mountains form a compact line against the night The whip of the reins cuts off pieces of mountain mist The wind ravelled with voices BONFIRES OF TWILIGHT HANG THE SKY WITH LANTERNS Salvos of barking knock at the town's aching temples THE ROAD SHRUGS ITS SHOULDERS M.L.

169 RAFAEL ESTRADA

M-EXMCA2VOS

CUANTX> en la aurora congelada se detuvo el tren? y en la llanura solitaria los soldados liacian su poco de cafe, quede admirado de como la mas grata dulzura reflejaba mejor en los rostros la indomita bravura.

No miente don Diego en sus muros cuando pinta a estos hombres feroces con semblantes humildes y obscuros y serenas miradas de dioses.

Yo NO se por que a veces me pongo triste. Me he asomado un momento para ver la tarde: el agua de la lluvia caia lentamente, y alia lejos el sol encendia las nubes tras los montes lejanos y azules; ha pasado un carruaje, hgi pasado una nina^ ha pasado una vieja que llevaba un panuelo sobre la blanca testa, se ha oido a lo lejos el pitazo del tren 170 RAFAEL ESTRADA

MEXICAN SOJLDIE1CS

, in the frozen dawn, the train stopped, and on the desolate plain the soldiers were making their bit of coffee,

I saw in amazement how the most touching gentleness was the clearest reflection on their faces of indomitable courage.

Don Diego does not lie when in his murals he paints these fierce men with humble dark faces and the tranquil gaze of gods. D. D. w. TRACKS

I DO not know why at times I become sad. I have looked out a moment to watch the evening: rain was falling slowly, and far off yonder the sun was kindling the clouds

behind the distant blue hills ;

a carriage has passed, a girl gone by, an old woman has passed, wearing a shawl upon her white head, in the distance the train-whistle has sounded. .

171 RAFAEL ESTRADA

Y yo he visto la tarde^ y he visto la lluvia, y mis ojos han visto las miradas ardientes de la niiia que pasa, y la figura escualida de la vieja harapienta. Y mi alma desde adentro se ha puesto triste, y mi pecho se ha turbado y me he puesto a sollazar y a suspirar amargamente. . .

BAJO la vidriera policroma del cielo pasa en su lento volar> una garza, mas serena que la tarde. Senalando hacia arriba, alguien dice: "Alia, bajo aquella nube/ El ave de paz remonta hacia el norte su vuelo, en linea recta; parece que vuela sobre un lago pulido; mientras yo me quedo absorto, viendola^ ella vuela, vuela, vuela, como si remara sobre un lago de rosas; ya lejos, se adelgaza, se perfila, son dos lineas flexibles que se pierden; descienden lentamente: el ave de paz remonta su vuelo hacia el norte; descienden mas : las lineas obscuras son dos rayitas blancas en el azul de las colinas; descienden mas y mas : las dos rayitas blancas son un punto bianco que aletea sobre los ramajes de los arboles lejanos. Pasaron por la ciudad tranquila, una tarde serena, y una garza, mas serena que la tarde.

172 RAFAEL ESTRADA

And I have watched the evening, and I have watched the rain, and my eyes have seen the burning glances of the girl who passes by, and the squalid figure o the shabby old dame. And my soul has become sad from within, and my breast has been troubled, and I have begun to sob and to sigh bitterly D. D. W. TWIJLIGJffT UNDER the manycoloured showcase of the sky it passes in its slow flight, a heron, more tranquil than the evening. Pointing upward, someone says: 'Up there, beneath that cloud/ The bird of peace points northward its straightlined flight: it seems to fly upon a polished lake: while I remain absorbed, watching, it flies, flies, flies,- as though it were rowing on a lake of roses; far off now, it becomes slender, moves sidewise, two flexible lines that fade away, sink slowly : the bird of peace its points flight northward ; they sink lower: the dark lines are two faint streaks of white in the blue of the hills; lower and lower: the two faint streaks of white are a white dot that flutters upon the branches of the distant trees. They passed through the peaceful city: a tranquil evening, and a heron more tranquil than the evening. D. D. W. WILBERTO L. CANTON

JSJL JL4LGO

EL cielo fiel en agua y luz duplica la desnudez azul de su posada y recoge prendida la mirada el reflejo que al arbol crucifica.

La montafia tenaz en nieve rica levanta su materia congelada: se acerca el sol, quebrando su llegada tras el espejo que la multiplica.

Magallanico viento tras la risa con que el triangulo puro de la brisa agita levemente nuestra vela.

Y en el momento absorto, sorprendida la placldez del Sur, su dulce vida que, cual la luz., sobre este lago riela.

ISJLA

ME asomo hacia mi mismo, desciendo por mis pasos a descubrir la imagen amarilla del tiempo gastada por las horas y por el largo abismo entre existir y olvido.

En la verde llanura de espadas quietas y altas, entre el sol y la piedra, .. hacia la luz absorta bajo la piel morena, desciendo por la cueva de viejas sensaciones. 174 WILBERTO L. CANTON

ON I^AKm UA2VQI7IIH7JB

THE faithful sky in lake and light repeats the azure nakedness in which it dwells and gathers there within its steady gaze the mirrored light that crucifies the tree.

The constant mountain in its snowy wealth thrusts upward to the sky its frozen mass: the sun draws near and shatters its arrival behind the multiplying mirror.

Magellan-wind behind the laughter with which the pure triangle of the breeze softly stirs our sail.

And in the moment of absorption, startling the South's placidity, its gentle life that shimmers, like the light, upon this lake.

D. D. W.

I PEER into myself, I go down by my own steps to discover time's yellow image wasted by the passing hours and the long abyss between existence and forgetting.

On the green plain of quiet lofty swords, between the sun and the rock, towards the rapt light beneath the brown skin, I descend through the cave of old sensations. 175 WILBERTO L. CANTON

Encuentro un nine, a veces ; un inocente nino en su cruz de preguntas: amarrado a su muelle de tristeza y misterio como un nuevo navio.

En nlebla gris recuerdo se presenta y exclama: *Es algo triste, si, pero el gato persiste en su tierno bostezo, y entre piratas queda la fragil heroina de salvajes y mares.

Es triste, si, pero aun permanece junto al brocal del pozo aquella hierba ria de placer y humedades, Interroga a la tierra, y en la suave marea del ocaso de otono se enrarece y deshace.

Es triste, si, mas las paglnas todas de figuras y sales estan llenas de angustia, y las acldas frutas se pudren de abandono. Tal vez sea triste: pero todo eso queda, y espera, y permanece/

ii

Taladrando la piedra, hacia el tambor que el agua con su pupila ciega con su ciega mirada con la encendida llama de su ciega distancia forma entre infierno y cielo : el tunel prodigioso, vertical e infranqueable: mas alia de ese circulo de verdes ramazones y oscuras cavidades, 176 WILBERTO L. CANTON

I meet a child, sometimes ; an innocent child upon its cross of questions, moored to its dock of mystery and sorrow like a new boat.

In the grey fog memory rises and cries:

'Yes, it is sad, yes, 'but the cat persists in yawning adorably, 'and your frail heroine of savages and seas 'is lost still among the pirates, 'It is sad, yes, 'but still that chill herb of delight and damp 'clings to the lip of the well, 'questioning the earth, 'and in the gentle tide of autumn sunset 'dwindles and withers. 'Yes, it is sad, 'but the pages, all imagery and wit, 'are full of pain, 'and the acid fruits rot deserted,

'Perhaps it is sad : 'but all of it remains, and waits, and endures/

ii

Drilling the rock towards the drum formed between hell and heaven by water with its sightless eyes, its blind stare, with the burning flame of its blind distance: the monstrous tunnel, vertical, not to be pierced: beyond that circle of lopped branches and dark hollows, 177 WILBERTO L. CANTON estas con tu sonrisa, fantasma transparente, estas con tu invisible paisaje de leyenda, entre las galopantes mariposas y luces, estas en tu silencio, en tu quietud celeste. ni

Quiero encontrar apoyo por cimentar aurora, quiero sentir la vida que me dejo esta carne, esta forma, este arado sutil, este tormento.

Quiero tierra sepulcro enredadera. Quiero un metal profundo, siemprevivo: la huella de pisadas que me sigue,

Por eso jo prcgunto a mi conciencia nueva por vegetal recuerdo, yo pregunto a mi mismo por ese nino ahogado, removiendo las aguas del tunel del silencio pregunto del fantasma, pregunto por las lentas mareas, por la tibia llanura y sus quietas espadas. Y en ese eterno abismo entre existir y olvido, en ese eterno abismo abierto por el tiempo con su gris paletada. solo el tiempo amarillo, solamente el olvicio.

178 WILBERTO L. CANTON there you are with your smile, translucent ghost, there you are with your invisible storybook landscape among the galloping butterflies and the lights, you with your silence in your celestial repose. m

I want to find support, seek to establish the dawn, I want the life that bequeathed me this flesh, this form, this delicate plough, this torment.

I want the twining earth to wind about me. I want a deep metal, .. living always: the trail of footsteps following me.

As to this I enquire of my new conscience, as to vegetal memory, I enquire of myself as to that drowned boy, stirring the waters of the tunnel of silence I ask of the ghost, I ask concerning the slow tides, the warm plain and its quiet swords. And in that eternal abyss between existence and forgetting, in that eternal abyss opened by time's grey digging, nothing but yellow time, nothing but forgetting.

D.F.

179 EDUARDO CARRANZA

En donde im hornbre $e lamenta como un hornbre.

UJST doraingo sin tf, de ti perdido, es corao un tunel de paredes grises donde voy alumbrado por tu nombre, es una noche clara sin saberlo o un lunes disfrazado de domingo; es como un dia azul sin tu permiso.

Llueve en este poema, tu lo sientes con tu alma vecina del cristal : llueve tu ausencia como una agua triste y azul sobre mi frente desterrada.

He comprendido como una palabra pequena, igual a un alfiler de luna o un leve corazon de mariposa., alzar puede murallas infinitas^ jtnatar una manana de repente, evaporar azules y jardines, tronchar un dia como si fuera un lirio, volver granos de sal a los luceros.

He comprendido como una palabra de la materia azul de las espadas y con aguda vocacion de espina, puede estar en la luz como una iterida que nos duele en el centro de la vida. 80 EDUARDO CARRANZA

SUNDAY

Wherein a man laments like a man.

A SUNDAY without you, lost away from you, is like a tunnel with grey walls through which I pass lighted by your name; it is a clear clear night, without knowing it, or a Monday masquerading as Sunday; it is like a dark blue day without your consent.

It is raining in this poem: you feel it with your soul that verges upon crystal : your absence descends like rainfall, sad and dark, upon my banished brow.

I have come to know how a little word, like a pin of moonlight or a butterfly's fragile heart, can raise up infinite walls, in an instant kill a morning, dry up blue and gardens together, crop a day as though it were a lily, change the morning stars 'into grains of salt.

I have come to know how a word made of the sword's blue substance^ with its thorn-sharp intention, can gather the light like a wound aching in the centre of our lives.

181 EDUARDO CARRANZA

Llueve en este poema y el domingo gira como un lejano carrusel: tan cerca estas de mi que no te veo, hecha de mis palabras y mi sueno.

Yo pienso en ti detras de la distancia, con tu voz que me inventa los domingos y tu sonrisa como vago petalo cayendo de tu rostro sobre mi alma.

Con su hoja volando hacia la noche, rayado de llovissna y desencanto, este domingo sin tu visto bueno llega como una carta equivocada.

La tarde, nina., tiene esa tristeza

del aire donde hubo antes una rosa : Yo estoy aqui, rodeado de tu ausencia, hecho de amor y solo como un hombre*

182 EDUAEJDO CARRANZA

It Is raining In this poem, and Sunday whirls like a far-off carrousel : so close are you to me that I can not see you., fashioned of my words and my dreaming.

I think of you beyond the distance, inventing Sundays for me with your voice : of your smile like a drifting petal drifting down upon my soul from your face.

"With its leafage flying toward night, streaky with mist and disillusion, this Sunday, without the seal of your approval, arrives like a misdirected letter.

And evening, dearest, holds the sadness of air where there was once a rose : I am here, surrounded by your absence, made of love and lonely as a man* D. D. W.

183 CARLOS DRUMMOND DE ANDRADE

MEU pai montava a cavallo, ia para o campo. Minha mae ficava sentada cosendo. Meu irmao pequeno dorjtnia. Eu sosinho menino entre mangueiras lia a historia do Robinson Cruzoe, comprida historia que nao acaba mais.

No meio dia branco de luz uma voz que aprendeu a ninar nos longes da senzala e nunca se esqueceu chamava para o cafe. Cafe preto que nem a preta velha cafe gostoso cafe bom.

Minha mae ficava sentada cosendo olhando para mim:

Psiu . . . Nao acorde o menino! para o bergo onde pousou um mosquito^ e dava um suspiro , . . que fundo !

La longe meu pai campeava no mato sem fim da fazenda.

E eu nao sabia que minha historia era mais bonita que a do Robinson Cruzoe.

84 CARLOS DRUMMOND DE ANDRADE

CfllJUMIOOD

MY father mounted his horse and rode away into the country. My mother stayed behind, sewing in her chair. My little brother lay asleep. a I, lonely child under the mango trees, read the story of Robinson Crusoe, a long story that never came to an end.

In the white sunlight of noontime a voice that had learned to sing us to sleep long ago in the slave quarters and had never been forgotten called us to coffee.

Coffee black as the old negress herself savoury coffee, good coffee.

My mother sat sewing, looking at me:

Hush . . . Don't wake the baby !

at the cradle on which a mosquito had lit, and sighed from the depths of her being.

Somewhere far off my father was exploring the endless woods of the plantation.

And I never knew that my own story was more beautiful than Robinson Crusoe's. D.P. 185 CARLOS DRUMMOND DE ANDRADE

FANTASIA

No azul do ceo de methyleno a lua ironica diuretica compoe uma gravura de sala de jantar.

Anjos da guarda em expedi^ao nocturna velana somnos puberes espantando mosquitos dos cortinados e grinaldas.

Pela escada em espiral diz que tern virgens tresmaliiadaSj incorporadas a via4actea, vagaluraeando . , ,

Por uma frincha o diabo espreita com o olho torto.

Diabo tern uma luneta que varre leguas de sete leguas e tern o ouvido fino que nem um violino.

S. Pedro dorme e o relogio do ceo ronca mecanlco.

Diabo espreita por uma frincha.

La em baixo suspiram boccas machucadas. Suspiram rezas ? Suspiram manso, de amor. CARLOS DRUMMOND I>E ANDRADE

IK a sky of mediylene blue the moon, ironical, diuretic, composes a print for the dining room.

Guardian angels on nocturnal rounds keep watch over adolescent dreams scaring mosquitoes from the curtains and garlands of the bed*

Up the spiral staircase, they say, the foolish virgins, embodied in the milky way, glimmer like fireflies.

Through a chink the devil peers with a squinting eye.

The devil has a telescope that sees for seven leagues and his ears are as fine as a violin's.

Saint Peter sleeps and the clock of heaven mechanically snores.

The devil peers through a chink.

Down there, crushed lips are sighing. Sighing prayers? They sigh lightly with love.

187 CARLOS DRUMMOND DE ANDRADE

E os corpos enrolados ficam mais enrolados ainda e a carne penetra na carne.

Que a vontade de Deus se cumpra! Tirante dois ou tres o resto vae para o inferno.

JTARDIM 2A JPHACA BA LIBEtWADE >

VERDES bolindo. Sonata cariciosa da agua fugindo entre rosas geometrlcas. Ventos elysios, Maclo.

Jardim tao pouco brasileiro . . . mas tao lindo.

Paisagem sem fundo. A terra nao soffreu para dar estas flores* Sem resonancia. O minuto que passa desabrochando em flora^ao inconsciente. Bonito demais. Sem humanidade. Literario demais.

(Pobres jardins do meu sertao atras da Serra do Curral ! Nem repuxos frios nem tanques langues, nem bombas nem jardineiros officiaes. So o matto crescendo indifferente entre semprevivas desbotadas e o olhar desditoso da moga desfolhando malmequeres.)

188 CARLOS DRUMMOND DE ANDRADE

And the entwined bodies

twine more closely still and love invades love.

God's will be done!

Two or three may be spared, the rest are all going to hell. D.P.

GARDEN IN LIBERTY

SWAYING greenery. Caressing music of water flowing between geometrical roses. Elysian winds. Sleek turf.

Garden so little Brazilian, and yet so lovely,

Landscape without depth. It cost the earth no pain to yield these flowers. Landscape without echoes. Each moment that passes unfolding in unpremeditated bloom. Too pretty. Too inhuman. Too literary.

(Poor gardens of the wilds of my country beyond the Serra do Curral! With neither cool fountains, nor languid pools, with no running water, no appointed gardeners. tarnished Only the dry thicket, carelessly growing among evergreens and the forlorn face of a girl tearing the daisy petals apart*)

189 CARLOS DRUMMOND DE ANDRADE

Jardim da Praga da Liberdade, Versailles entre bondes.

Na moldura das Secretarias compenetradas a graa intelligente da relva compoe o sonho dos verdes.

PROHIBIDO PISAR NO GRAMMA0O Talvez fosse melhor dizer: PROHIBIDO COMER O GRAMMADO A PreiEeitura vigilante vela a somneca das hervinhas. E o capote preto do guarda e uma bandeira na noite estrellada de funccionarios.

De repente uma banda preta vermelha retinta suando bate urn dobrado batuta na do^ura do jardim.

Repuxos espavoridos fugindo.

190 CARLOS DRUMMOND DE ANDRADE

Garden in Liberty Square, Versailles among streetcars.

In the frame of the brooding Ministries the conscious grace of the lawns composes a revery of green.

DO NOT WALK ON THE GRASS Perhaps it were better to say: DO NOT EAT THE GRASS The watchful Prefecture stands guard over the slumber of the grass-blades. And the black cloak of the watchman is a banner in the night starred with guards.

Suddenly a negro brass band, sweating in pure vermilion, breaks into a rousing military march in the stillness of the garden.

Startled fountains take flight. D.P.

191 FRANCISCO MENDEZ

SANGKE EN UNA PIEDRA

POBRE Poncho, lo fregaron los gringos cuando la revolution de Nicaragua.

Con lo era de aventuras ! I andariego que y amigo Nacido en mi mismo pueblo; de trece o catorce anos, huyo a la costa con unos volantines. Se le fueron ocho anos por esos andurriales, comiendo frijol negro, amansando potros, en cortes de cafe y 'amolando' en las cantinas. Porque aprendio de los indios a tomar el trago*

Un dia, lo mordio una culebra. . . Bueno, tiene mil trances pintorescos que recalentaron su sangre de maton. jComo el sol de las fincas se le monto para siempre! jComo el paisaje recio e impetuoso carcomio en sus entranas ! Raices de arbol retorcian sus venas y en su pecho pateaba el corazon. Ya era hombre cuando regreso al poblado. Y resollaba como bestia andariega. Su gran sombrero de petate con no se que de rancho y pajonal se salia de madre por calles, por atajos y por la plaza los dias domingos. Pero se robo una moza y avento de nuevo por esos mundos. bien rne acuerdo ahora de sus lacios I Que bigotes y de una vez que me 'pelo* el machete ! Presidios. Cuatrerias.

Balazos y "puyones*.

192 FRANCISCO MENDEZ

BLOOD ON A STONE

POOR Poncho, tlft gringos drove him nuts during the revolt in Nicaragua.

What a tumbleweed he was ! How he went for adventure ! Born right in my home town; when he was thirteen or fourteen he ran off to the coast with some crazy kids. He put in eight years off in the wilds, eating black beans, busting colts, working the coffee clearings, raising hell in bars. Because the Indians showed how to gulp it down.

One day, a snake bit him. . . Well, he got mixed up in a thousand queer jams, and how they got into the big bruiser's blood !

for ! The plantation sun burned ibjto him good How that tough fierce countryside gnawed into his guts ! His veins twisted like tree roots and his heart kicked out in his chest.

He was man grown when he got back to the village, and he went snorting around like an animal on the loose. or about His big thatch hat, with something ranchy hayseed it> short spilled through the streets, through cuts, and through the square on Sundays. But he grabbed himself a girl and went roaming again oft through the world. How it comes back to me now, his drooping mustache, and once when he pulled his cane-knife on me!

Jails. Cattle-rustling. Bullet and knife wounds.

193 FRANCISCO MENDEZ

Asi anduvo su nombre par doquiera. Por fin anclo en aguas del General Sandino el ano veintiseis* jEn cuantas balaceras no estuvo el pobre Poncho metiendo onzas de plomo a la gringada! Pasaba entre la humareda su sombrero, amarillo de tanto arder al sol y sudar los crepusculos; y una ducha de polvo detras de su caballo. orilla de en

Olvido. Ni siquiera una lagrima. Ni siquiera su nombre en una piedra. No no el sombrero de j pasari, pasara petate debajo de los arcos de la historial

194 FRANCISCO MENDEZ

And so his name spread everywhere. Finally he anchored in the waters of General Sandino back in ^26*

What shootings wasn't poor Poncho mixed up in, slamming ounces of lead into the gringos ! His hat would pass through the clouds of smoke, yellow from so much burning in the sun and from twilight sweat; and a quick shower of dust behind his horse. On what river-bank, in what cozy spot, in what flash joint, did death tangle with him ? His belly slit wide, eyeballs yanked out, Lieutenant Visquera's lads found him with seven gringo bullets sunk in his bones.

Forgotten, Not even a tear. Not even his name on a stone,

It's never going to pass, that thatch hat,

under the arches of history ! D. D. W.

195 GILBERTO GONZALEZ Y CONTRERAS

CAJLOM

MEBIODIA del tropico. Galbana. La desnudez rojiza de la arada implora al cocotero agite el abanico de sus palmas.

El crepitar de la madera imita la cigarra. Anda el silencio de puntillas por la casa. Y el agua de la acequia toma el pulso al calor que aletarga.

IGUESIA

Tus torres son agujas para ensartar estrellas.

Etes en tu blancor una paloma con las alas abiertas.

A pesar de tu grave . serenidad concentxas el consuelo de todos los dolores, la esperanza de todas las tristezas.

En tus pararrayos el sol danza, y las nubes se enredan.

96 GILBERTO GONZALEZ Y CONTRERAS

HJEA5T

TROPICAL mid-day. Indolence. The reddish nudity of the plowed field begs the coconut-tree to wave its palmy fan.

The creaking wood

mimics the cicada. - Silence walks on tiptoe through the house. And the water in the ditch takes the pulse of the languid heat. IX F.

YOUR spires are needles for stringing stars.

In your whiteness you are a dove with wings unfolded.

Despite your grave serenity you distil the anodyne of every sorrow, the hope of every grief.

Your lightning-rods are for the sun's dancing and the snaring of clouds. z>. F. 197 CLAUDIA LARS

ALTA vision de sueno sin espina; honda vision en realidad clavada.

Ansia del vuelo en recta que se empina ; fuerza del paso en ctirva accidentada.

Rosa de sombra^ rosa matutina, nna cafda y otra levantada. Angeles invisibles en la esquina donde el presente cambia de Jornada.

Marcha el momento signo de Taltura : brote de sangre limpia y carne pura en renovado cai^po de infinito.

Y en promesa inefable y verdadera^ Gabriel de anunciaciones y de espera un mundo sin cadenas y sin grito.

el lodo empinada. No como el tallo de la flor y el ansia de la mariposa . - , Sin raices ni juegos: mas recta-, mas segura y mas libre.

Conocedora de la sombra y de la e.spina. Con el milagro levantado 198 CLAUDIA LARS

LOFTY vision of thornless sleep ; deep vision nailed to reality. Upward thrust of yearning for straight flight; strength of footsteps In a broken curve.

Rose of shadows, rose of the morning, the one fallen, the other raised. Angels invisible at the corner where the present changes the guard.

The moment marches, symbol of height : bud of clean blood and pure flesh in a field endlessly renewed.

And in promise ineffable and true Gatfriel of annunciations and of hope a world without chains, without cries.

> D. w.

SM3ETCM OJP OfME JFMOJVMJSR WOMA2V

erect in the retire. Unlike the flower's stalk and the butterfly's eagerness . . . Without roots or fluttering: more upright, more sure, and more free.

Familiar with the shadow and the thorn. With the miracle uplifted

199 CLAUDIA LARS en los brazos triunfantes. Con la barrera y el abismo debajo de su salto.

Duefia absoluta de su carne para volverla centre del espiritu : vaso de lo celeste, domus aurea, gleba donde se yerguen, en un brote, la mazorca y el nardo.

Olvidada la sonrisa de Gioconda.

Roto el embrujo de los siglos. Vencedora de miedos. Clara y desnuda bajo el dia limpio.

Amante inigualable en ejercicio de un amor tan alto que hoy ninguno adivina. Duke, con filtrada dulzura que no dana ni embriaga a quien la prueba.

Maternal todavia, sin la caricia que detiene el vuelo, ni ternuras que cercan, ni mezquinas daciones que se cobran.

Pionqra de las nubes. Guia del laberinto. Tejedora de vendas y de cantos. Sin mas adorno que su sencillez.

Se levanta del polvo * . . No como el tallo de la flor que es apenas belleza.

200 CLAUDIA LARS in her triumphant arms. With the barrier and the abyss beneath her leap.

Absolute mistress of her flesh to make it the core of her spirit: vessel of the heavenly, domus aurea, a lump of earth from which rise, budding, the corn and the tuberose.

* Forgotten the Gioconda smile. Broken the spell of centuries. Vanquisher of fears. Clear and naked in the limpid day.

Lover without equal in a love so lofty that today no one divines it. Sweet, with a filtered sweetness that neither harms nor intoxicates him who tastes it.

Maternal always, without the caress that hinders flight, or the tenderness that confines, or the petty yieldings that must be redeemed.

Pioneer of the clouds. Guide to the labyrinth. Weaver of tissues and songs. Her only adornment, simplicity.

She rises from the dust . . . Unlike the flower's stalk which is less than beauty. D. D. w. 201 LUIS L. FfiANCO

AJPJKMSCO

Eisr el apristo calido y oliente balan timi los cliivatos dirimen su rencilla ; las cabras 5 llena la ubre a no poder ya maSj rumian hincadas de rodillas : sus ojos claros de Inocencia impudica soslayan con miradas de mujer al vlejo chivo de la barba talmudica.

202- LUIS L. FRANCO

IN the hot malodorous pen timidly the little she-goats are bleating; suddenly upon two feet upreared the fractious kids settle their grudge : the nannies, "with udders full as full can be, rest ruminating upon their knees : their clear eyes of shameless innocence glance sidelong, as a woman's might, at the old goat with the Talmudic beard. M. L.

203 LUIS PALES MATOS

JEJL JPOZO

Mi alma es como un pozo de agua sorda y profunda, en cuya paz solemne e imperturbable ruedan los dias, apagando sus rumores mundanos en la quietud que cuajan las oquedades muertas.

Abajo el agua pone su claror de agonia: irisacion morbosa que en las sombras fermenta, linfas que se coagulan en largos limos negros y exhalan esta exangiie y azul fosforescencia.

Mi alma es como un pozo. El paisaje dormido, turbiamente en el agua se forma y se dispersa, y abajo, en lo mas hondo, hace tal vez mil anos, una rana misantropa y agazapada suefia.

A veces al influjo lejano de la luna el pozo adquiere un vago prestigio de leyenda: se oye el cro-cro profundo de la rana en el agua, y un remoto sentido de eternidad lo llena.

C&A.RO DE JLCWA

EN la noche de luna, en esta noche De luna clara y tersa, Mi corazon como una rana oscura Salta sobre la hierba.

Que alegre esta mi corazon ahora! Con que gusto levanta la cabeza Bajo el claro de luna pensativo Esta medrosa rana de tragedia! 204 LUIS PALES MATOS

THE WELL

MY soul is like a well of dead, deep water in whose solemn, imperturbable peace the days go by, stilling their worldly murmurs in the silence curdled in the dead hollows.

Down there the water shows its agonized brightness: soft iridescence fermenting in shadow, lymphs which coagulate in long black slime and exhale this bloodless blue phosphorescence.

My soul is like a well. The sleeping landscape darkly forms and disintegrates in the water, and down below, deep down, perhaps a thousand years past, a hidden misanthropic frog is dreaming.

Sometimes at the distant influx of the moon

the well takes on a vague legendary spell : the frog's deep croaking echoes in the water, filled with a remote sense of eternity. D.D.W.

CLAm BE

IN the moonlight, in this night Of clear and glossy moonlight, My heart like a dark frog Leaps upon the grass.

How gay is my heart now ! With what delight this fearful Tragic frog uplifts its head Beneath the pensive brightness of the moon !

205 LUIS PALES MATOS

Arriba, por los arboles. Las aves blandas suenan, Y mas arriba aun, sobre las nubes, Rccien lavadas brillan las estrellas.

Ah, que no llegue nunca la mafiana! Que se alargue esta lenta Hora de beatitud en que las cosas Adquieren una irrealidad suprema,

Y en que mi corazon como una rana Se sale de sus cienagas, Y se va bajo el claro de la luna En vuelo slderal por las estrellas!

EUEGI.A DJBJL miQUE BJE JLA

OH mi mi melado de la ! j fino, Duque Mermelada I Donde estan tus caimanes en el lejano aduar del Pongo, Y la sombra azul y redonda de tus baobabs africanos, Y tus quince mujeres olorosas a selva y a fango ?

Ya no comeras el suculento asado de nino, el Ni mono familiar, a la siesta, te matara los piojos, tu Ni ojo dulce rastreara el paso de la jirafa afeminada A traves del silencio piano y caliente de las sabanas.

Se acabaron tus noches con su suelta cabellera de fogatas su Y gotear sonoliento y perenne de tamboriles, En cuyo fondo te ibas hundiendo como en un lodo tibio Hasta llegar a las margenes ultimas de tu gran bisabuelo. LUIS PALES MATOS

High up, among the trees. The soft birds dream,

And higher still, above the clouds, The stars gleam newly washed.

Ah let morning never come ! Lengthen out this slow And blessed hour when things Take on a supreme unreality,

And when my heart like a frog Emerges from its swamps And sets out in the brightness of the moon Upon its sidereal flight among the stars! D. D. w.

ELEGY OF TME &UKE OF WAMMALADE

O MY fine, my honeycoloured Duke of Marmalade! Where are your alligators in the far-off camp on the Pongo, And the round blue shadow of your African baobabs, And your fifteen wives smelling of the forest and the mud ?

No longer will you eat the succulent roast child, Nor will the tame monkey at siesta time kill your lice, Nor your gentle eye follow the tracks of the effeminate giraffe. Across the fiat hot silence of the plain.

Gone are your nights with their flowing bonfire hair And their somnolent everlasting dripping of drums, Into whose depths you would sink slowly as into warm mud Till you reached the ultimate shores of your great greatgrandfather.

207 LUIS PALES MATOS

Aliora, en el molde vistoso de tu casaca francesa, Pasas azucarado de saludos como un cortesano cualquiera, A despecho de tus pies que desde sus botas ducales Te gritan: Babilongo, subete por las cornisas del palacio,

va mi con la Madama de j Que gentil Duque Cafole, Todo afelpado y pulcro en la onda azul de los violines, Conteniendo las manos que desde sus guantes de aristocrata Le gritan: Babilongo, derribala sobre ese canape de rosa!

Desde las margenes ultimas de tu gran bisabuelo, A traves del silencio piano y caliente de las sabanas, Por que lloran tus caimanes en el lejano aduar del Pongo, Oh mi fino, mi melado Duque de la Mermelada ?

VEM&E

EL Condesito de la Limonada,

Jugueton, pequenin . . . Una monada Rodando, pequenin y jugueton., Por los salones de Cristobalon.

Su alegre rostro de titi. Atodos dice: Si

Si, Madame Cafole, Monsieur Haiti,

Por alii, por aqui.

Mientras los aristocratas macacos Pasan armados de cocomacacos, Solemnemente negros de nobleza, El Conde, pequenin y jugueton, Es un fluido de delicadeza Que llena de iSnuras el salon ... Si, Madame Cafole, Monsieur Haiti, Por alii, por aqui.

208 LUIS PALES MATOS

Now, in the showy frame of your French dress-coat, You pass sugared with greetings like any courtier, In spite of your feet, which from their ducal boots

Cry out to you : Babilongo, climb up by the palace cornices.

How elegantly goes my Duke with Madame Coffeewith, All velvety and dainty in the violins' blue wave, Restraining the hands that from their patrician gloves Cry out to him: Babilongo, fyioc\ her down on that rose sofa!

From the ultimate shores of your great greatgrandfather, Across the flat hot silence of the plain, Why do your crocodiles weep in the far-off camp on the Pongo, O my fine, my honeycoloured Duke of Marmalade ? D. D. W.

JLOOK OUT FOR THE SNAKE!

THE little Count of Lemonade, Playful, tiny ... A monkeyshine Wandering, tiny and playful, Through the salons of Christophe the Great. His gay little monkey face To everyone says; "Yes. Yes, Madame Coffeewith, Monsieur Haiti, That way, this way/

While the macaque patricians Pass by, armed with squat cocoanuts, Solemnly black with nobility, The Count, tiny and playful, Is a flowing delicacy

That fills the salon with niceties . . .

Tes, Madame Coflfeewith, Monsieur Haiti, That way, this way.*

209 LUIS PALES MATOS

Vedle en el rigodon,

Miradle en el minue . , * Nadie en la Corte de Cristobalon Lleva con tanta gracia el casac6n Ni con tanto donaire mueve el pie, Su formula social es : oh, pardon ! Su palabra elegante : volupte ! Ah, pero ante su Alteza, Jamas oseis decir lagarto verde, Pues perdiendo al instante la cabeza Todo el fine aristocrata se pierde ! Y alia va el Conde de la Limonada, Con la roja casaca alborotada Y la fiera quijada Rigida en epileptica tension , . . Alia va entre grotescos ademanes^ Multiplicando los orangutanes En los espejos de Cristobalon.

ML

Er. nanigo sube al cielo, El cielo se ha decorado De melon y calabaza Para la entrada del nanigo. Los arcangeles, vestidos Con verdes hojas de platano, Lucen coronas de anana Y espadones de malango. La gloria del Padre Eterno Rompe en triunfal taponazo,

* Indreiduo de una socledad secreta de los negros cubanos. aio LUIS PALES MATOS

See him in the rigadoon.

Watch him in the minuet . . . No one in the Court of Christophe the Great Wears the brocade coat with so much grace Or moves on such a genteel foot. His social formula is: oh> pardon! His word of elegance : voluptel

Ah, but in the presence of His Highness You must never dare say : Loof^ out for the snafye! Because, losing his head in an instant.

All the fine aristocrat vanishes !

And there goes the Count of Lemonade With his red brocade coat in a whirl And his proud jaw

Rigid in epileptic tension . . . There he goes with grotesque gestures Multiplying orang-utans In the mirrors of Christophe the Great.

, D. w.

2VA2VI fO* TO

THE ndnigo mounts up to Heaven* Heaven is decked out With melons and calabash For the entrance of the ndnigo, The archangels, robed In green banana leaves, Are sporting pineapple crowns And broadswords of malango. The glory of the Eternal Father Bursts in a triumphant cork-pop,

* Member of a secret society of Cuban Negroes. LUIS PALES MATOS

Y espuma de serafines Se riega por los espaclos* El nafiigo va rompiendo Tiernas oleadas de bianco. En su ascension rnilagrosa Al dulce mundo serafico. Sobre el cerdo y el caiman Jehova^ el potente, ha triunfado las alturas J Gloria a Dios en Que nos trae por fin el nanigo !

Fiesta del cielo. Dulzura De merengues y caratos. Mermelada de oraciones. Honesta horchata de salmos.

Con dedos de bronce y oro5 Las trompas de los heraldos Por los balcones del cielo Cuelgan racimos de cantos. Para aclararse la voz, Los querubes sonrosados Del egregio coro apuran Huevos de Espiritu Santo. El buen humor celestial Hace alegre despilfarro De chistes de ramselina, En palabras que ha lavado De todo tizne terreno El celo azul de los santos.

El nafiigo asciende por La escalinata de marmot^ Con meneo contagloso De caderas y omoplatos. Las ordenes celestiales LUIS PALES MATOS

And the foam of seraphim Sprays over space. The ndnzgo is breasting Soft combers of white In his wondrous ascension To the sweet seraphic world. Over hog and alligator Triumphs Jehovah the mighty Glory to God in the highest For bringing us the ndnigo at last ! A fiesta in Heaven. Sweetness of meringues and caratos? Marmalade of prayer. Genuine milkshake of psalmody. With bronze and golden fingers The trumpets of heralds On the balconies of Heaven Hang festoons of song. To clear their throats., The rosy cherubim Of the Heavenly Choir Gulp down Holy Ghost eggs. The celestial good humour Is a joyous scattering Of muslin jokes In words washed clean Of all earthly stain By the Saints' azure zeal. The ndnigo goes up The marble staircase To a contagious slapping Of backs and thighs. The celestial Orders * A soft drink made of sugar, water, and the juice of tke genip tree. 213 LUIS PALES MATOS

Le acogen culipandeando

Hete aqui las blancas ordenes Del ceremonial hleratico ; La Orden del Golpe de Pecho, La Orden del Ojo Extasiado> La que preside San La Real Orden de San Las parsimoniosas ordenes Del Arrojo Sacrosanto Que con matraca y rabel Barren el cielo de diablos.

En loa del alma nueva Que el Empireo lia conquistado, Ondula el cielo en escuadras De doctores y de santos. Con arrobos maternales, A que contemplen el naJnigo Las castas once mil virgenes Traen a los ninos nonatos. Las Altas Cancillerias

Despliegan sus diplomaticos> Y se ven, en el desfile, Con eximio goce extatico Y clueca sananeria De capones gallipavos. De pronto Jehova conmueve De una patada el espacio. Rueda el txueno y quedan solos Frente a frente, Dios y el nafiigo. En la diestra del Senor, Agrio foete, fulge el rayo,

(Palabra de Dios, no es musica Transportable a ritmo hutnano. LUIS PALES MATOS

Receive him., tails a-waggle : Lo the white Orders

Of hieratic ceremony : Order of The Beaten Breast,, Order of The Ecstatic Eye^ Saint Memo's Order,, The Royal Order of Saint Mamo, The frugal Orders Of The Sacrosanct Valour, ^Vith rattles and rebecs Sweeping Heaven clean of devils.

Praising the new soul That has conquered the Empyrean., Heaven surges with squadrons Of Doctors and Saints. With maternal quiverings, To lay eyes on the fzdnigo * The chaste Eleven Thousand Virgins Bring their unborn children. The High Chancelleries Pour out their diplomats^ And they strut in the procession "With the proud ecstatic delight And brooding silliness Of turkey capons. Suddenly Jehovah shakes The void with a kick.

Thunder peals ; and there, alone,. Face to face stand God and ndnigo. In the Lord's right hand Burns the sour whip of the lightning.

(Word of God ! this is no music To be transposed to human rhythms,

215 LUIS PALES MATOS

Lo que Jehova preguntara, Lo que respondiera el namgo, Pide un mas noble Instxumento Y exige un atril mas alto. Ataquen, pues ? los exegetas El tronco de tal milagro, Y quedese mi romance Por las ramas plcoteando. Pero donde el pico es corto^ Vista y olfato van largos., Y mientras aquella mira A Dios y al negro abrazados, Este percibe un mareante Tufo de ron antillano Que envuelve las dos figuras Protagonistas del cuadro, Y da tonos de cumbancha Al festival del espackx)

I Por que va aprisa San Memo ? I Por que esta alegre San Mamo ? ^Por que las once mil virgenes Sobre los varones castos Echan, con grave descoco, La carga de los nonatos ? I Quien enciende en las alturas Xal borococo antillano, Que en oleadas de boctiinche Estremece los cspacios ? I Cuya es esa gran figura Que va dando barquinazos. Con su rezongo de truenos Y su orla azul de relampagos ?

Ha entrado un alma en el cielo esa es el J Y alma alma del nanigo! 210 LUIS PALES MATOS

What Jehovah may have asked And the ndnigo replied Calls for a nobler instrument., A taller music-stand. Then let exegetes attack The trunk of this miracle^ And my ballad remain Pecking on the boughs. But where the beak is short, Sight and smell go far; And while the eyes behold God and the negro embracing., The nose perceives a drifting Steam of Antillean rum Surrounding the two chief Figures in the scene And lending a jamboree tone To the festival of space.)

Why is Saint Memo rushing ? Why is Saint Mamo so gay ? Why do the Eleven Thousand Virgins Thrust upon the chaste males^ With heavy shamelessness. The charge of their unborn children ? ^Who kindles in the heights This Antillean hubbub That with waves hurlyburly Sets all space a-tremble ? Whose is that great figure That goes thumping along With its snarling thunder And its blue hem of lightning ?

A soul has entered Heaven, And that soul is the ndnigo! r>.F. LUIS CARLOS LOPEZ

CAM.PJBSI2VA, WO I&EJES

CAMPESINA, no dejes de acudir al mercado con tus rubios cabellos coliflor en mostaza

anida el . . y tus ojos> tus ojos donde pecado.

no acude verte cuando cruzas la . . . j Quien por plaza! SI hasta el cura del de alma I pueblo, ingenua y sencilla, cuando asomas sacude su indolente cachaza ! . . .

Si eres ! . . . Y sin la j egloga cantas, cantar, semilla y el surco, los molinos, el arroyo parlero, donde viajan las hojas su tristeza amarilla . . ,

te un un j Que importa que zafio, que panzudo banquero, solterona fea y que aquella nauchacha^ y muy 3 no te compren esclavos de su inutil dinero

tus claveles y lirios, flor gentil de tu aldea ! . . .

se al cuerno ! . . . se al j Que vayan | Que vayan ajo

al tomate! Y coman arroz con . . . y j que jicotea!

tu Porque 5 campesina de sombrero y refajo, cuando pasas en burro, sandunguera y sabrosa, alas pones y trinos de jilguero en el grajo . . .

Pones alas trinos! . . . Y te llevas la rosa I y | de tu faz ! * , . Y te llevas tu j maligna mirada, y tu duke sonrisa que me ha dicho esa cosa a un le la que gloton sugiere entreabierta granada! . . . LUIS CARLOS LOPEZ

COI/IVTHY GIRL, DON'T STAY AWAY . . .

COUNTRY girl, don't stay away from the market, you with the blond hair cauliflower in mustard and those eyes, those eyes where wickedness makes its nest! . . ,

Who wouldn't run to watch you crossing the square!

Even the village priest, that frank and simple soul,

when you appear shakes off his lazy languor! . . .

You are an eclogue! . . . and you sing, without singing, the seeds, the furrows, the mills, the bubbling streams

where leaves float their yellow sadness . . .

What do you care if that crass, that potbellied banker, and that spinster there old and very ugly do not buy from you (slaves to their useless wealth!)

your pinks and lilies lovely flower of your village . . .

To the devil with them ! To the garlic and tomato with them! Let them eat rice and turtle-meat!

For you, country girl with your hat and skirt, you, debonaire and sweet, riding by on your donkey, give the wings and trills of a goldfinch to a crow!

. the rose The wings and trills L . And you take away malicious of your face! . . . And you take away your glance, and your sweet smile which has said to me the thing that to a glutton suggests the half-open pomegranate! . , . D.D.W. 219 LUIS CARLOS LOPEZ

1J9FE

NOCHE de pueblo tropical: las horas lentas y graves. Viene la oracion, y despues, cuando llegan las senoras, la musical cerrada del porton . . .

Se oyen de pronto, cual un disparate, los chanclos de un gafian. Y en el sopor de las olor a chocolate cosas, { que y queso, a pan'de yuca y alfajor ! . .

De lejos y a la sombra clandestina de la rustica cuadra, un garanon le ofrece una retreta a una pollina, tocando amablemente su acordeon . . .

Tan solo el boticario, mi vecino, vela impasible tras del mostrador, para vender con gesto sibilino dos centavos de aceite de castor . . .

Mientras la el luna, desde hondo arcanos calca la iglesia. En el azul plafon, la luna es tumefacta como un grano . . . Y la iglesia un enorme biberon.

SIESTA HJEJL TMOF1CO

DOIVEINGO de bochorno3 mediodia de reverberacion solar. Un policia como empotrado en un guardacanton, S2O LUIS CARLOS LOPEZ

NIGMT

TROPIC village night: the hours slow and grave. The vesper bell, and then, as the ladies return, the musical closing of the gate . . ,

Suddenly, the incongruous sound of peasant clogs. And in the drowsiness of things, what a smell of chocolate and cheese, of yucca bread and honey-cake!

Far off in clandestine shadow, in the rustic stable, a jackass brays taps for his donkey love with a friendly squeeze on his accordion . . .

Only the druggist, my neighbour, keeps stolid watch behind his counter, to sell with a sibylline gesture two cents' worth of castor oil

While the moon, from its arcane depth, outlines the church. In its blue vault

the tumid moon is like a pimple . . . And the church an enormous nursing-bottle, D. D. w.

Tmo&zc SIESTA.

SULTRY Sunday, noon of shimmering sun, A policeman as if embedded in the curb, LUIS CARLOS LOPEZ durmiendo gravemente. Porqueria de un perro en un pretil. Indigestion de abad, cacofoma sorda de on cigarron. . . .

Soledad de necropolis^ severe y hosco mutismo. Pero de pronto en el poblacho se rompe la quietud dominical., porque grita un borracho feroz: el . . , . \ Viva partido liberal!

mm

UN" pedazo de luna que no brilla sino con timidez. Canta un marino y su triste cancion^ tosca y sencilla^ tartamudea con sabor de vino.

El mar, que el biceps de la playa humilla, tiene sinuosidades de felino, y se deja caer sobre la orilla con la cadencia de un alejandrino.

Pienso en ti, pienso que te quiero mucho, porque me encuentro triste, porque escucho la esquila del pequeno campanario^ que se queja con un sollozo tierno, raientras los sapos cantan el invierno con una letra del abecedario . . . LUIS CARLOS LOPEZ profoundly asleep. A dog's filth smeared on a fence. An abbot's indigestion, the muffled cacophony of a locust

Solitude of the grave, complete and sullen silence* But suddenly in the ugly town the dominical hush is broken, for a raving drunkard screams : Hooray -for the Liberal Party! n. J9. w.

A FRAGMENT of moon that shines but timidly. A sailor sings, and his sad song, rough and plain, stammers with the tang of wine.

The sea, baffled by the shore's biceps, has a feline sinuosity, and it drops itself upon the beach with the cadence of an alexandrine.

I am thinking of you, thinking that I love you, because I am sad, because I am listening to the small bell in the little tower which mourns with a tender sobbing while the toads sing about winter with a letter from the spelling book D. D. W. 223 LUIS MUNOZ MARIN

UN burro escalando una montana, lentamente> vibrando bajo el peso de las banastas. (Sus orejas optimistas se inclinan hacia la cumbre.)

Un albafiil colocando ladrillo sobre ladrillo. (Su tararear es monotone, interminable.)

Dios, bregando con las estrellas. (Su silenclo es profundo.)

&ANWUETO

HE roto el arcoiris

contra mi corazon? como se rompe una espada intitil contra una rodilla, He soplado las nubes de rosa y sangre mas alia de los ultimos horizontes. He ahogado mis suenos para saciar los suenos que me duermen en las venas de los hombres que sudaron y lloraron y rabiaron para sazonar mi cafe . .

224 LUIS MU&OZ MARIN

A DONKEY ascending a mountain, slowly, vibrating under the weight of the saddlebags. (His optimist ears slant toward the summit.)

A bricklayer setting brick upon brick. (His humming is monotonous, interminable.)

God, hard at work with the stars. (His silence is profound.) M.L.

FAMFMJLJBT

I HAVE broken the rainbow against my heart as one breaks a useless sword against a knee. I have blown the clouds o rose colour and blood colour beyond the farthest horizons. I have drowned my dreams in order to glut the dreams that sleep for me in the veins of men who sweated and wept and raged to season my coffee . .

225 LUISMUNOZMARIN

El sueno que duerme en los pechos estrujados por la tisis

Un de un de sol ! ( i poco aire, poco ) ; el sueno que suenan los estomagos estrangulados por el hambre de de bianco ( jUn pedazo pan, un pedazo pan !) ; el sueno de los pies descalzos (jMenos piedras en el camino, Senor, menos botellas rotas!); el sueno de las manos callosas

(jMusgo . . . olan limpio . . . cosas suaves, blandas, carinosas!) El sueno de los corazones pisoteados

. , . , . (j Amor Vida . , Vida! . .)

Yo soy el panfletlsta de Dios, el agitador de Dios, y voy con la turba de estrellas y hombres hambrientos hacia la gran aurora

226 LUIS MU5JOZ MARIN

The dream that sleeps in breasts stifled by tuberculosis little a little (A air, sunshine!) ; the dream that dreams in stomachs strangled by hunger bit bit (A of bread, a of white bread!) ; the dream of bare feet (Fewer stones on the road. Lord, fewer broken bottles!); the dream of calloused hands

(Moss . . . clean cambric . . . things smooth, soft, soothing!) The dream of trampled hearts (Love . . . Life . . . Life! )

I am the pamphleteer of God, God's agitator, and I go with the mob of stars and hungry men toward the great dawn . , . M.L.

227 JOSE LEZAMA LIMA

RAPSODMA PARA, EE,

CON que seguro paso el mulo en el abismo.

Lento es el rnulo, Su mision no siente. Su destine frente a la piedra, piedra que sangra creando la abierta risa en las granadas. Su piel rajada, pequemsimo triunfo ya en lo oscuro, pequemsimo fango de alas ciegas. La ceguera, el vidrio y el agua de tus ojos tienen la fuerza de un tendon oculto, y asi los inmutables ojos recorriendo lo oscuro progreslvo y fugitive. El espacio de agua comprendido entre sus ojos y el abierto tunel, fija su centre que la faja como la carga de plomo necesaria que viene a caer como el sonido del mulo cayendo en el abismo.

Las salvadas alas en el rnulo inexistentes, mas apuntala su cuerpo en el abismo la faja que le impide la dispersion de la carga de plomo que en la entrana del mulo pesa cayendo en la tierra humeda de piedras pisadas con un nombre. Seguro, fajado por Dios, entra el poderoso mulo en el abismo.

Las sucesivas coronas del desfiladero van creciendo corona tras corona y alii en lo alto la carrona 228 JOSE LEZAMA LIMA

FOR TMJE MUJLJE?

How certain the mule's step in the abyss.

Slow is the mule. He does not sense his mission. His fate facing the stone, stone that bleeds creating the open laughter of pomegranates. His cracked skin, tiniest triumph now in the dark, tiniest blind-winged clod. The blindness, the glassiness, the water of your eyes have the strength of a hidden tendon : just so his motionless eyes scanning the increasing fugitive dark. The space of water between Ms eyes and the open tunnel fixes the centre that cinches him like the necessary load of lead to fall like the sound of the mule falling in the abyss.

No saving wings existing for the mule, his body is more sustained in the abyss by the swath belting-in the dispersion of the leaden charge heavy in the bowels of the mule as he falls to the moist earth of stones trampled with a name. Steadily, cinched by God, the strong mule enters the abyss.

The successive crests of tBe ravine crest crescent beyond crest and there on high the carrion 229 JOSE LEZAMA LIMA

de las ancianas aves que en el cuello muestran corona tras corona. Seguir con su paso en el abismo. El no puede, no crea ni persigue, ni brincan sus ojos ni sus ojos buscan el secuestrado asilo al borde prenado de la tierra. No crea, eso es tal vez decir :

I No siente, no ama ni pregunta ? El arnor traido a la traicion de alas sonrosadas, infantil en su oscura caracola. Su amor a los cuatro signos del desfiladero, a las sucesivas coronas en que asciende vidrioso, cegatp, como un oscuro cuerpo hinchado por el agua de los origenes, no la de la redencion y los perfumes. Paso es el paso del mulo en el abismo.

Su don ya no es esteril : su creacion la segura marcha en el abismo, Amigo del desfiladero, la profunda hinchazon del plomo dilata sus carillos. Sus ojos soportan cajas de agua y el jugo de sus ojos sus sucias lagrimas son en la redencion ofrenda altiva. Entontado el ojo del mulo en el abismo y sigue en lo oscuro con sus cuatro signos. Peldanos de agua soportan sus ojos, pero ya firente al mar la ola retrocede como el cuerpo volteado en el instante de la muerte subita* Hinchado esta el mulo, valerosa hinchazon que le lleva a caer hinchado en el abismo. 230 JOSE LEZAMA LIMA of ancient birds, their necks displaying crest upon crest. The step onward in the abyss. He has no power of creation or pursuit, his eyes neither leap nor seek the sanctuary sequestered at earth's teeming border. No creation; and is that perhaps no feeling, no loving, no questioning ? Love brought by betrayal of rosy wings, childlike in the dark conch. His love for the four hoof-signs in the ravine, the successive crests of his glassy blind ascent, the dark body swollen by the water of origins, not the water of redemption and perfume. Each step is a step of the mule in the abyss.

His gift is no longer sterile: his creation the steady march in the abyss. Familiar of the ravine, the deep lead swelling puffs out his cheeks. His eyes hold boxes of water, and the juice of his eyes his grimy tears are proud oblation for redemption. Bewildered the eye of the mule in the abyss, and he marches on in the dark with his four hoof-signs. Steps of water are shored up in his eyes, but now confronting the sea the wave retreats like a wrestler thrown at the moment of sudden death. Swollen is the mule, a mighty swelling that bears him swollen to fall into the abyss. 23* JOSE LEZAMA LIMA

Sentado en el ojo del mulo, vidrioso, cegato,, el ablsmo ientamente repasa su invisible. En el sentado abismo, paso a paso, solo se oyen las preguntas que el mulo va dejando caer sobre la piedra al fuego.

Son ya los cuatro signos conque se asienta su fajado cuerpo sobre el serpentin de calcinadas piedras. Coando se adentra mas en el abismo la piel le tiembla cual si fuesen clavos las rapidas preguntas que rebotan. En el abismo solo el paso del mulo. Sus cuatro ojos de humeda yesca sobre la piedra envuelven rapidas miradas, Los cuatro pies, los cuatro signos maniatados revierten en las piedras, El remolino de chtispas solo impide seguir la misma aventura en la costumbre, Ya se acostumbra, colcha del rnulo, a estar clavado en lo oscuro sucesivo; a caer sobre la tierra hincliado de aguas nocturnas y pacientes lunas. En los ojos del mulo., cajas de agua. Aprieta Dios la aja del mulo y lo Mncha de plomo como premio, Cuando el gamo bailarin pellizca el fuego en el desfiladero prosigue el mulo avanzando como las aguas impulsadas por los ojos de los maniatados. Paso es el paso del mulo en el abismo.

El sudor manando sobre el casco ablanda la piedra entresacada 232 JOSE LEZAMA LIMA

Settled in the mule's eye, glassy, myopic, the abyss slowly reviews its invisible. In the settled abyss, step by step, are heard only the questions which the mule treads into the burning stone,

Now there are four hoof-signs, and so his cinched body settles upon the serpentine calcined stones. Entering deeper into the abyss his skin trembles as if the swift bouncing questions were nails. In the abyss only the mule's step. His four eyes of humid tinder weave quick glances on the rock. The four feet, the four manacled signs, overflow' on the stones. Only the flurry of sparks impedes the repetition of the familiar story. Now the mule is used to his quilt: to being nailed to successive darkness; to falling, swollen with nocturnal waters and suffering moons, upon the earth. In the mule's eyes, boxes of water. God tightens the mule's cinch and swells him with lead for a prize. When the dancing buck plucks at the fire in the ravine, the mule continues advancing like waters raised by the stares of manacled men. Each step is a step of the mule in the abyss.

Sweat oozing over the hoof softens stones sifted

233 JOSE LEZAMA LIMA

del fuego no en las vasijas educadq, sino al centre del tragaluz, oscuro miente. Su paso en la piedra nueva carne formada de un despertar brillante en la cerrada sierra que oscurece. Ya despertado, magica soga cierra el desfiladero comenzado por hundir sus rodillas vaporosas. Ese segnro paso del mulo en el abismo suele confundirse con los pintados guantes de lo esteril. Suele confundirse con los comienzos de la oscura cabeza negadora. Por ti suele confundirse, descastado vidrioso.

Por ti, cadera con lazos charolados que parece decirnos yo no soy y yo no soy, pero que penetra tamblen en las casonas donde la araSa hogarena ya no alumbra y la portatil lampara traslada de un horror a otro horror, Por ti suele confundirse, tu, vidrio descastado, que paso es el paso del mulo en el abismo.

La faja de Dios sigue sirviendo. Asi cuando solo no es chispas la caida sino una piedra que volteando arroja el sentido como pelado fuego que en la piedra deja sus mordidas intocables. Asi contraida la faja, Dios lo quiere, la entrafia no revierte sobre el cuerpo, aprieta el gesto posterior a toda muert. Cuerpo pesado, tu plomada entrafia inencontrada ha sido en el abismo, ya que cayendo, terrible vertical trenzada de luminosos puntos ciegos, aspa volteando incesante oscuro, has puesto en cruz los dos abismos. 234 JOSE LEZAMA LIMA from fire formed not in vessels, but in the skylight-centre, giving the lie to darkness, His step on the stone new flesh fashioned of a bright awakening in the dense darkening mountains. Alert now, the ravine completes the magic cord begun with the bending of its vapoury knees. That steady step of the mule in the abyss is often confused with sterility's painted gloves, confused ofteA with the first probings of the dark denying head. Confused through you, glassy outcast; through you, haunch with glossy looping braids that seem to tell us / am not and / am not, but pierce also those mansions no longer lit by ancestral candelabra, where the lamp is carried from one horror to another horror. Through you confused, you, outcast glass, for each step is a step of the mule in the abyss.

The buckle of God still serves. Thus when the fall is not merely sparks, but a bounding stone hurling the sense like a blazing fire that leaves its intangible bite upon the stone. The buckle thus tightened (God wills it) ,

the bowels do not burst out in bodily rupture ; the look that follows every death grows strong. Heavy body, your lead-like bowels were unencountered in the abyss, for in falling, a horrible vertical braided with shining blind points, wheel spinning incessant dark, of two abysses you have formed a cross. 335 JOSE LEZAMA LIMA

Tu final no slempre es la vertical de dos abismos. Los ojos del mulo parecen entregar a la entraiia del abismo, liumedo arboL Arbol que no se extiende en acanalados verdes sino cerrado como la tinica voz de los comienzos.

Entontado, Dios lo quiere,, el mulo sigue transportando en sus ojos arboles visibles y en sus musculos los arboles que la musica han rehusado. Arbol de sombra y arbol de figura han llegado tambien a la ultima corona desfilada. La soga hinchada transporta la marea y en el cuello del mulo nadan voces necesarias al pasar del vacfo al haz del abismo.

Paso es el paso, cajas de agua, fajado por Dios el poderoso mulo duerme temblando. Con sus ojos sentados y acuosos, al fin el mulo arboles encaja en todo abismo. JOSE LEZAMA LIMA

Your terminus is not always the vertical of two abysses. The mule's eyes seem to yield a humid tree to the heart of the abyss. A tree that does not spread out in channelled greens, but thick like the single voice of the beginnings.

Bewildered, God wills it, the mule carries in his eyes trees visible, and in his muscles the trees that have rejected music. Tree of shade and tree of shape, they too have won the last crest of the ravine. The swollen rope carries the tides over and in the mule's neck voices are swimming as he passes from the void to the face of the deep.

Each step is a step, boxes of water. God-cinched, trembling sleeps the powerful mule. With his set and watery eyes in each abyss the mule plants trees at last

237 CONSTANTINO SUASNAVAR

XXVT

perdido los zapatos en el gran Valle de Sula. Pasando sobre los rios por los puentes adormidos bajo el manton de la luna. Al son de los bananales y los rugidos del puma, caramba! ya voy llegando.

Llegando yo, sin zapatos^ llegando a San Pedro Sula.

IX Que flaca vive la nina vendedora de pescado Anda sucla y mal oliente semivestida de ttarapos, dando tumbos y retumbos en un proximo desmayo. Que nina tan enfermiza, Ay! que semblante tan palido. Tiene los ojos tan tristes y son sus ojos tan garzos como las garzas morenas* la Ay! nlfia, nina, nina? vendedora de pescado. 238 CONSTANTINO SUASNAVAR

XXVT I HAVE lost my shoes in the great Valley of Sula, Crossing over rivers by slumbering bridges under the cloak o the moon.

To the rustling of banana groves and the roars of the puma here I come, carambal^

here I come, shoeless,, to San Pedro Sula. M.L.

TS.

"What a thin life the girl fish-vendor leads ...

She goes about dirty and smelly, half-clothed in rags, tumbling around noisily in a near faint.

a sickly girl ! Ah, what a pale face !

She has such sad eyes, and her eyes are as blue as the dark herons. Ah, the girl, girl, girl fish-vendor! CONSTANTINO SUASNAVAR

XXX

Paso revlsta de hoteles para barrer por comer, y nada,

Paso por esos mercados y tampoco5 nada.

Paso por todas las calles y no puedo recoger ni palabras.

nada.

XXI

Los plantios. Los ganados. Las montanas. El sol, el viento, y el agua.

(Van los rios vagabundos nuirmiiraiido sus canclones a las flores del camino).

Rie on niiio. Canta un vlejo. Bajo el clelo dos campesinos jovenes se besan. Yyo escrlbo estos versos por toda la vida nueva.

24,0 CONSTANTINO SUASNAVAR

XXX I look up hotels to sweep so I can eat nothing,

I go through those markets, and it*s just the same : nothing.

I go through all the streets and I can't pick up even words.

Nothing, nothing, nothing.

XXI

Sown fields. Herds. Mountains. Sun, wind, and water,

(The rivers go wandering, murmuring their songs to the roadside flowers.)

A child laughs. An old man sings, Beneath the sky two young rustics kiss.

And I set down this poem for the whole of the new life. zx F. CONSTANTINO SUASNAVAR

xvn

La hija del amo me gusta como la leche y el pan; me gusta verla en la tarde de tiempo primaveraL

For eso en noch.es de lima hasta le voy a cantar; le canto con la guitarra como en era medioeval.

Le canto aqtiella cancion de *sirenita del mar*; pero me dijo hace poco: Vos no sos mas que jayan. Ya no le vuelvo a cantar.

XLIII

Son tres princlpios, amigo, en el arte y en la vida: el primer principio es el de la Mbnotonia.

Son tres principios, amigo, en la ciencia y en la vida: el segundo principio es

el de la Polifonia . . .

Son tres principles, amigo, en la historia y en la vida: el tercer principio es d de la Armonia,

242 CONSTANTINO SUASNAVAR

XVII

I like the boss' daughter as I like milk and bread; it makes me feel good to see her on a spring afternoon.

And so on moonlight nights

I even go to sing to her ; I sing to her with a guitar^ as in mediaeval times.

I sing her that song called The Little Sea-Siren; but a while back she told me, "You're just a big dope/ No more songs for her !

3CLIII

These are the three principles, friend,

in art and in life : the first principle is Monotonic.

These are the three principles, friend, in science and in life: the second principle is Polyphonic.

These are the three principles, friend, in history and in life: the third principle is Harmonic. REG1NO PEDROSO

MANANA

COMO forjamos el hierro forjaremos dias nuevos.

Sudorosos y fuertes, descenderemos a lo profundo y arrancaremos a sus entraiias las nuevas conquistas.

Ascenderemos a las montanas, y el sol nos llenara de su vlda: seremos pedazos de sol.

Forjaremos otra vlda grandiosa y humana; la eternizarernos con un potente esfuerzo unanime. Y bajo el ojo virgen de los amaneceres cantaremos a la fuerza creadora del musculo y a la armonia fraterna de las almas.

Muchos5 y seremos solo uno* Para el gran canto solo tendremos una voz.

Cantaremos al hierro, a la belleza fuerte y nueva de la maquina.

Los yunques, los tractores que violan a la tlerra en copula mecanica; la turbina 7 la dmamo ; la fuga infinlta de los rieles sistema venoso de acero por donde circula la vida, Los canales de luz de los cables electricos, celulas cerebrales del mundo, donde vibra la fuerza.

244 REGINO PEDROSO

As WE hammer out iron we shall hammer out new days.

Sweaty and strong, we shall go down into the depths and wrest new conquests from the bowels of the earth.

We shall climb the mountains, and the sun will fill us with its life: we shall be pieces of sun.

We shall forge another life, magnificent and human; make it eternal with a concerted mighty effort. And beneath the virgin eye of dawn we shall sing to the creator-force of muscles and the brotherly concord of hearts.

Many, we shall be a single one. For that great song we shall have but one voice*

We shall sing to iron, to the fierce new beauty of the machine.

Anvils, tractors that ravish the earth with their mechanized coupling; the turbine, the dynamo; the endless fugue of the rails vein-system of steel through which life flows. Light-ducts of electric cables, brain-cells of the world, where vigour throbs.

245 REGINO PEDROSO

Cantaremos al liierro, porque el mundo es de hierro, y somos hijos de tderro; pero estaremos sobre la rnaquina.

Un sentimlento nuevo brotara en nuestros pechos, y sera tan inmenso, que para amarlo seremos solo un corazon.

? . . . I Donde estos dias miserables e invalidos

Como forjamos el hierro forjaremos otros siglos. Enjoyados de jubilo los nuevos dias nos veran, musculosos y fuertes desfilar frente al sol.

Vendretnos de los campos, de las ciudades, de los talleres: cada instrumento de trabajo sera como un arma; una sierra, una Have, un martillo, una hoz y ocuparemos la tierra como un ejercito en marcha, saludando a la vida con nuestro canto unanime.

CO2VCEFTOS DJBJL IVUEVO ESTXJDIANTE

FUI hasta . Yo ayer ceremonioso y pacifico . ,

Antano bebf el te de hojas maduras del Yunnan en fina taza de porcelana; descifraba los textos sagrados de Lao-Tseu, de Meng-seu, y del mas sabio de los sabios, Kung-fu-Tseu.

En el misterio de las pagodas mi vida transcurria armoniosa y serena; blanca como los lotos de los estanques,

246 REGINO PEDROSO

We shall sing to iron., for the world is of iron, and we are are sons of iron; but we shall stand above the machine.

A new feeling will blossom in our breasts, so huge that to love it we shall be a single heart.

And then where will our bitterness be ? Where these wretched and futile days ?

As we hammer out iron we shall hammer out new ages. Bejewelled with joy the new days will behold us muscular and strong as we march before the sun.

We shall come from the fields, the cities, the shops: every work-tool will be like a weapon saw, wrench, hammer, sickle we shall occupy the earth like a marching army, hailing life with our unanimous song. D.F.

OPINIONS OF TEOB NEW STUDENT

UNTIL yesterday I was polite and peaceful . . .

Last year I drank the yellow-leaved Yunnan tea in fine cups of porcelain, and deciphered the sacred texts of Lao-Tze, of Mang-tze, and of the wisest of the wise, Kung-fu-Tseu.

Deep in the shade of the pagodas my life ran on, harmonious and serene, white as the lilies in the pools,

247 REGINO PEDROSO dulce como un poema de Li-tai-Pe, siguiendo en los crepusculos 5 el looping the loop de un vuelo de cigiienas perfilarse en el biombo de un cielo de alabastro.

Me ha despertado un eco de voces extranjeras surgido de las bocas de instrumentos mecanicos; dragones que incendian con gritos de metrallas ante el horror de mis hermanos, asesinados en la noche mis casas de bambu y mis pagodas milenarias.

Y ahora., desde el avion de mi nueva conciencia, atalayo las verdes llanuras de Europa, sus ciudades magnficasy florecidas de piedra y de hierro.

Se ha desnudado en mis ojos el alba de Occidente.

Entre mis manos palidas? la larga pipa de los siglos, ya no me brinda el opio de la barbaric; y hoy marcho hacia la cultura de los pueblos ejercitando mis dedos en el gatillo del mauser.

En la llama de ahora cocciono impaciente la droga de manana; quiero profundamente aspirar la nueva epoca en mi ancha pipa de jade. Una inquietud curiosa ha insomnizado mis ojos oblicuos. Y para otear mas hondo el horizonte, salto sobre la vieja muralla del pasado . , .

fui hasta Yo ayer ceremonioso y pacifico . . .

248 REGINO PEDROSO gentle as a poem by Li Tai Po, watching the loop-the-loop of white storks at eve against the screen of an alabaster sky.

But I have been awakened by the echo of foreign voices booming from the mouths of mechanical instruments : dragons setting ablaze with howls of grapeshot to the horror of my brothers murdered in the night my bamboo houses and my ancient pagodas.

And now, from the airplane of my new conscience, I watch over the green plains of Europe, and her magnificent cities blossoming in stone and iron.

Before my eyes the western world is naked. With the long pipe of the centuries in my pale hands, I am no longer enticed by the opium of barbarism; and today I march toward the progress of the people, training my fingers on the trigger of a Mauser,

Over the flame of today impatiently I cook the drug of tomorrow; I would breathe deep of the new era in my great pipe of jade* A strange restlessness has taken all sleep from my slanting eyes. To gain a deeper view of the horizon of the . . . I leap up on the old wall past

Until yesterday I was polite and peaceful . . . L.H.

249 CESAR TIEMPO

MSMAEJLSTA.

A national home for the Jewish people. LORD BALFOIIH

SORDAS al hervidero de la calle, felices en su modorra y libres de todo desvario, reposan cara al mundo con sus corvas narices estas almas cesantes del realengo judio.

Fondeadas ya las naves definitivamente tras de la travesia por caminos sin vuelta, se hicieron estos lechos y esta ciudad yacente para dormir el sueno postrer a pierna suelta.

Los ayes de las viejas con su dolor ruidoso no turban este mundo supino satisfecho donde arden los compases del moles quejumbrpso cantado a precio fijo con sus golpes al pecho.

Danzan aqui los dias su oclo pausadamente, da la palingenesia de las flores su gracia, y convertido el schnorrer en un terrateniente tambien esta en el suelo junto a la arist-ocracia.

Mientras las noches lucen sus condecoraciones sobre la calma espesa de la ciudad enana, la grey semita duerme sin vanas ambiciones> confiando que la vida no empezara manana . . .

250 CESAR TIEMPO

ISMAEUiT

A national home for the Jewish people. LORD BALFOUB.

DEAF to the hurly-burly of the street, drowsy-content, free from delirium, face upward, with the down-curved noses, rest these souls discharged from Jewry and its cares.

After a crossing by paths without return their boats have come to mooring here at last; they have made themselves these beds, this sprawling city, in the sure repose of everlasting sleep.

The moans of old women with their noisy grief can not disturb this smug and supine world where throb the rhythms of the whining dirge the breast. sung for a set price, with beatings of

Here the days dance their slowly-measured ease, the flowers* resurrection confers its grace; the schnorrer has taken title to the land, the aristocrat his neighbour in the ground.

And while the nights display their decorations above this dwarfed city's heavy calm, the Semite flock sleeps without vain ambition, assured that life will not begin tomorrow. . *

25* CESAJRTIEMPO

EN JLA mm JAIM NAIMAM BfAJLIK

&Que otra preocupacion que la del dia pre- sente puede tener un pueblo que se arrastra en sus tinieblas y en su$ abismos? BlAJLIK

EL 5 de julio la Associated Press dlo la noticia al mundo: fallecio en Viena Jaim Najman Bialik.

Pasaron veinte dias y en la misma ciudad ultlmaron a Dollfuss, el 'Mllemetterniciu jCuidado con los poetas cuyos punos golpean sobre las mesas de los verdugos !

Los dlarios de la colectividad pudieron publicar la noticia en 'Sotiales*, junto a la cronica de la fiesta con que la familia BarabancMk celebraba la circuncision de su vastago. Tengo un corazon violento y una voz aspera.

Cruzo las calles de la juderia con mi rencor y mi dolor a cuestas.

Hermanos de Buenos Aires: nuestro mas alto poeta ha muerto. Como en los Salmos Dios le cino de fuerzas e hizo perfecto su camino.

Minkowski fue la lagrima, Bialik la imprecacion.

Y ambos se pudriran bajo la tierra, frente a los ojos ciegos de la noche tremenda. * * *

Un cielo en de mangas carnisa corre sobre los tejados,

252 CESAR TIEMPO

m OF CHAYIM

What other interest than that of the present moment can a people have which must drag itself through its shadows and abysses? BlALIK

ON July 5 the Associated Press gave the news to the world: Chayim Nachman Bialik had died in Vienna.

Twenty days later, and in the same city, they put an end to Dollfuss, the *Millimetternich'.

Look out for poets whose fists pound on the desks of hangmen!

The world's dailies were "able to publish the item on the Society Page next to the account of the party with which the Barabanchik family celebrated the circumcision of their offspring.

I have a violent heart and a harsh voice.

I walk the streets of the Jewish Quarter

weighed down by my anger and my grief.

Brothers of Buenos Aires:

our proudest poet is dead. As in the Psalms, God girded him with strength and made straight his way.

Minkowski was plaintive, Bialik an imprecation.

And both will rot under the earth,

facing the blind eyes of tremendous night. * * *

A shirtsleeve sky runs over the roofs.

253 CESAR fIEMPO

Los buhoneros juegan en el Pilsen su diuturna partida 3e domino.

Las muchachas que quieren casarse no pasan bajo los andamios.

Senores burgueses que infrinjis todos los Mandamientos y estais los sabados sobre vuestros libros de tapas negras pasandoles la mano por el lomo a las cifras para que se alarguen como gatos, os he visto en los templos resplandecientes c los los apartados como purs sangs' en bretes suntuosos , con los ojillos redondos y desvaidos y las altas galeras y los 'thaleisem' de seda pura, queriendo sobornar a Dios que os conoce mejor que vuestros empleados.

Jaim Najman Bialik ha muerto.

Hoy en 'El InternacionaT hay pescado relleno y un buen stock de doctores para vuestras pobres hijas languidas.

I Qulen se acuerda de las masacres de Ukrania, de la tempestad delirante de los pogroms, cuando los juliganes violaban a vuestras madres y estabais en los sotanos temblorosos e inutiles como la luz que lame los espejos ?

Bialik clamo, trono sobre las negras aguas y su risa iracunda corrio como un viento loco sobre las aldeas, *Ei es pueblo una hierba marchita3 se ha puesto seco como una madera*. Y hubo jovenes que supieron sacudirse como lobeznos y sus dientes agudos despedazaron nuestra humiliation.

Jaim Najman Bialik ha muerto.

Los chamarileros sonrien en las puertas de su pandemonio.

254 CESAR TIEMPO

The pedlars in the Pilsen are at their endless game of dominoes.

Girls who want to get married don't walk under scaffolding.

You bourgeois who break all the Commandments and spend your Sabbaths over your books bound in black, stroking the spines of the figures

in order to make them stretch out like cats, I have seen you in your glittering temples ranged like thoroughbreds in sumptuous stalls with your round lifeless little eyes, with your formal tall hats and your pure silk prayer-shawls, trying to bribe God who knows you better than your employees.

Chayim Nachman Bialik is dead.

There's gefiillte fisch today in The International', and a good stock of doctors for your poor drooping daughters.

Who remembers the massacres in the Ukraine, the raving storm of the pogroms, when hooligans raped your mothers and you were trembling in your cellars, useless as a ray of light striking a mirror ?

Bialik shouted, he thundered across the black waters, and his angry laughter ran through the villages Like a wild wind*

'The people are withered grass, they have gone dry as timber/ And there were youths who shook themselves like wolf cubs and their sharp teeth tore our shame to shreds.

Chayiin Nachman Bialik is dead.

The old-clothes dealers smile in the doorways of their pandemoniums.

255 CESAR TIEMPO

Los Lacrozes estan mas verdes que nnnca.

Echa tn pan sobre las aguas, dice Eclesiastes.

Da gusto oir a Mischa Elman desde una muelle butaca del Colon.

Gorki dijo que con Bialik el pueblo judio habia dado un nuevo Homero al mundo.

; El Banco Israelita le daria un credito a su sola firma ?

Voces:

Esta noche cuando cierre el negocio, mientas mojo la tostada en el vaso de te, k voy a decir a mi senora que me lea El Pdjaro j El Jardin, y despues de comer vamos a ir al Teatro Ombu: para ser de la 'Comision' hay que estar 'preparado'.

Jaim Najman Bialik ha muerto.

^Mama ^me lavo la cabeza con querosen y me pongo el vestido de raso celeste para ir a la Biblioteca ? Bueno, querida, y a ver si consigues un novio como la gente, que ya es tiempo.

Jaim Najman Bialik ha muerto.

En la puerta de la Cocina Popular nuestros hermanos, los que no se atreven a morirse de hambre, esperan su racion.

Jaim Najman Bialik ha muerto.

Nuestras piernas se arrastran en las mas profundas cienagas de la noche sobre y nuestras cabezas brilla una luz pura.

En Tel Aviv hubo un poeta.

^"Yahora?

256 CESAR TIEMPO

The Lacroze trolleys are greener than ever*

Cast thy bread upon the waters, says Ecclesiastes.

How nice to hear Mischa Elman from a soft orchestra seat at the Colon.

Gorki said that with Bialik the Jewish race gave a new Homer to the world.

Would the Bank of Israel give him credit on just one signature ?

Voices: 'Tonight when the store's closed and I'm dunking my toast in a glass of tea, I am going to ask my Missus to read me The Bird and The Garden, and after supper we're go- ing to the Ornbu Theatre: if you want to get on the "Committee," you've got to be on your toes/

Chayim Nachman Bialik is dead.

c Ma, will I wash my hair with kerosene and put on my * sky-blue satin dress to go to the Library ?' All right, darling, and mind you get yourself a young man, 5 like the rest of the girls : it's about time.

Chayim Nachman Bialik is dead.

At the door of the People's Kitchen our brothers, the ones who haven't the courage to starve to death, are waiting for their ration,

Chayim Nachman Bialik is dead.

marshes of the and Our legs drag through the deepest night above our heads shines a pure light

In Tel-Aviv there was a poet. And now? D. D. w. 257 CESAR TIEMPO

LUNA, madre del Sabado, transfunde tu amorosa serenidad, tu polen de paz, tu alma viaiera en la esposa que espera la llegada del hijo como una melodiosa consagracion pascual de fruto en primavera.

Domingo, Mjo del sol, que tu luz no la hiera, tu alabandina luz que no descansa; que el clamor de la calle se haga musica mansa para el hljo que avanza con un temblor de agua que busca su ribera.

Sabadomingo, el nino nuevo como la danza que muere y renace sobre la tlerra herida, llega con su esperanza a buscar tu esperanza, una madre judia con su amor te lo alcanza, dale tu claridad para toda la vida.

JL01tAJlH

"Las que siernbran Ilorando9 cantando CQsecharan" SAJLMOS, cxxvi, 5

DE un pals de leche y miel, de colinas y rios claros salio el pueblo de Israel llorando.

Columnas de fuego y nubes sus pasos fueron guiando e Israel cruzo el desierto llorando. CESAR TIEMPO

MOON, mother of the Sabbath, transfuse your loving calm, your pollen of peace, your wandering soul Into the wife that awaits the son's coming like a melodious paschal consecration of spring fruits.

Sunday, son of the sun, let your light not strike her., your light alabandine that knows no rest; let the roar of the street become gentle music for the son advancing with the tremor of water seeking its shore.

Sabbath-Sunday, the child new as the dance, that dies and is reborn upon the stricken earth, comes with its hope to seek your hope; a Jewish mother brings it you with her love : give her your brightness all the days of her life.

D. D. W. WEEPING ANW SINGING

tears "They that spiv in shall reap in joy" PSALMS, cxxvi, 5,

FROM a land of milk and honey, from hills and rivers clear, the people of Israel went forth, weeping,

Pillars of fire and cloud went on before their steps and Israel crossed the desert, weeping. 259 CESAR TIEMPO

Los cautivos levantaron ciudades de inuros altos y dieron gracias a DIos llorando.

Las lanzas se hicieron rastras y las espadas arados trabajaron noche y dia llorando.

El mar de aguas encendidas pasaron con sus caballos, los encontro la borrasca llorando.

Estuvieron en los ghettos sombrios emparedados pero encontraron la luz llorando.

El sabado fue su escudo, su isla? su candelabro y bendijeron el sabado llorando.

Vejados y escamecidos, sobre la tierra encorvados, siembran sin odio y sin tregua llorando.

Mariana el sol sonreira sobre los campos sembrados y entonces cosecharemos cantando, btermanos, cantando. CESAR TIEMPO

The captives lifted up their cities of mighty walls and they gave thanks to God, weeping.

Their lances became harrows, their swords were turned to ploughs, night and day they laboured, weeping.

The sea of fiery waters they crossed over with their horses, the tempest fell upon them, weeping.

They were walled about in the shadow of the ghettos but they found out the light, weeping.

The Sabbath was their buckler* their isle, their candelabrum, and they called the Sabbath holy, -weeping.

Taunted and spat upon, bent low above the earth, they sow without hate or rest, weeping.

Tomorrow the sun will smile upon the seed-rich fields and then, then we shall reap, singing, brothers, singing. Z>. IX

261 NICOLAS GUILLEN

*WO SE JPOR VJm PJTJEHV&4US TIP

No SE por que piensas tu, soldado, que te odio yo, si somos la misma cosa, yo, tfi.

Tu eres pobre, lo soy yo; soy de abajo, lo eres tu: I de donde has sacado tu, soldado, que te odio yo ? Me duele que aVeces tu te olvides de qulen soy yo; caramba si I !, yo soy tu, lo mismo que tu eres yo* Pero no por eso.yo he de malquererte^ tu : ^i somos la misma cosa yo, tfi, no se por que piensas tu, soldado, que te odio yo* nos I Ya veremos yo y tu, juntos en la misma calle, hombro con ! hombro? tu y yo Sin odios, ni yo ni tu, pero sabiendo tu y yo adonde vamos yo y tu . . , se | No por que piensas tu, soldado, que te odio yo ! NICOLAS GUILLEN

* S CAI*^ FMGWJKE WHY*

SOLDIER, I can't figure why you should think I hate you, why, we are the same, we two, me, you.

You are poor, and so am I ;

I'm from down under, so are you ; where in the world did you get the idea, soldier, that I hate you ?

I'm sorry that you sometimes

can forget who I am ; why, hell, man ! but I am you, just the same as you are me. But that's no reason "why I should Have a grudge against you: if we are the same, we two, me, you, soldier, I can't figure why you should think I hate you. We'll see each other, you and me, out in the same street together, shoulder to shoulder, you and me ! With no hatreds, me or you, but knowing well, you and me, where weVe going, me and you . . . Soldier, I can't figure why you should think I hate you ! H. R. H. 2*63 NICOLAS GUILLEN

SOOMUDO a. Miguel N. Lira

I QUE bala lo malaria ? Nadie lo sabe. En que pueblo naceria ? En Jovellanos, dijeron, j Como fue que lo trajeron ? Estaba muerto en la via, y otros soldados lo vieron.

bala lo mataria ! j Que

La novia viene, y lo besa; llorandoj la madre viene* Cuando llega el capltan, solo dice:

lo entierren ! j Que

Chin ! Chin ! Chin! i 1 j AQUI VA EL SOLDADO MUERTO. Chin! Chin J i !j Chin! DE LA CALLE LO TRAJERON. jChm! jChin! jChin! EL SOLDADO ES LO DE MENOS* iChin!|Chin!iChin! QUE lsA$ SOLPADOS TENEMOS.

IMS NINOS

Dos ninos, ramas de un mismo arbol de miseria, juntos en un portal, bajo la noche calurosa, dos niiios pordioseros llenos de pustulas, comen en una misma lata, como perros hambrientos^ la comida lanzada por el pleamar de los manteles. Dos ninos: uno negro> otro bianco. 264 NICOLAS GUILLEN

To Miguel N. Lira

WHAT bullet could have killed him ? 'Nobody knows. Where do you suppose he was born ? In Jovellanos, they say. How come they picked him up ? He was dead in the road and some other soldiers saw him. What bullet could have killed him!

His girl comes and kisses him; his mother comes and cries. When the Captain comes, all he says is: Bury him!

Rat-ta-tat-tat! THERE GOES THE DEAD SOLDIER. Rat-ta-tat-tat! THEY PICKED HIM UP FROM THE STREET. Rat-ta-tat-tat! A SOLDIER AIN'T NOTHING. Rat-ta-tat-tat! WE GOT PLENTY OF SOLDIERS. LM. TWO CBiuMMBZV

Two children, branches of the same tree of wretchedness, together in a doorway, beneath the torrid night, two beggar children, covered with sores, are eating from the same tin, like hungry dogs, the food cast up by the tide of the tablecloths.

Two children : one black, the other white.

265 NICOLAS GUILLEN

Bus cabezas imidas estan sembradas de piojos; sus pies, muy juntos y descalzos; las bocas incansables en un mismo frenesi de mandibulas, y sobre la comida grasienta y agria, dos manos: una negra, otra blanca.

union sincera fuerte ! j Que y Estan sujetos por los estornagos, y por las noches foscas, y por las tardes melancolicas en los paseos brillantes, y por las mananas explosivas, cuando despierta el dia con sus ojos alcoholicos.

Estan unldos como dos buenos perros . . . Juntos asi, como dos buenos perros, uno negro, otro bianco, cuando Ilegue la hora de la marcha, marchar fj querran tambien, como dos buenos hombres, uno negro, otro bianco?

Dos ramas de arbol ninos., un mismo de miseria? estan en un portal, bajo la noche calurosa.

CAMTAJLiS EN UN MAM

(Los turistas en el bar; Cantaliso, sit guitarra, y un son que comienza a andar).

No ME paguen porque cante lo que no les cantare: ahora tendran que escucharme todo lo que antes calle. NICOLAS GUILLEN

Their heads, pressed together, are sown with lice; their bare feet, closely joined; their mouths, tireless in an identical frenzy of jaws; and above the sour and greasy food, two hands: one black, the other white.

What a powerful and sincere union! They are bound by their hunger and by sullen nights, and by melancholy afternoons in the gleaming avenues, and by explosive mornings when the day awakens with its alcoholic eyes.

They are side by side like two good dogs . . . Together thus, like two good dogs, one black, the other white, when the hour of marching comes will they march as well, like two good men, one black, the other white ?

Two children, branches of the same tree of wretchedness, are in a doorway, beneath the torrid night. H.R.H.

CAZVTAJLISO IIV A IfAH

(Tourists in a bar; Cantaliso, his guitar, and a son that shapes itself).

DON'T pay me for singing what Fm not going to sing: you're going to hear now all I shut up about before.

267 NICOLAS GUILLEN

I Quien los llamo ?

Gasten su plata5 beban su alcol, comprense un giiiro, pero a mi no., pero a mi no, pero a mi no !

Todos estos yanquls rojos son hdjos de un camaron, y los pario una botella, una botella de ron*

I Quien los llamo ? Ustedes viven,, me muero yo5 comen y beben5 pero yo no., pero yo no., pero yo no !

Aunque soy un pobre negro, se que el mundo no anda bien; ay, yo conozco un mecanico^ que lo puede componer. ^ Quien los llamo ? Cuando regresen a Nueva York, mandenme pobres como soy yo, como soy yo, como soy yo ! A ellos les dare ml mano, y con ellos cantare, porque el canto que ellos saben es el mlsmo que yo se! 268 NICOLAS GUILLEN

Who sent for you ? Spend your money, drink your licker, buy yourself a maraca but you can't buy me, not me, not me!

All these red Yankees are sons of a shrimp, born from a bottle, a bottle of rum. Who told you to come ? You live, and I die, you eat and you drink, but not me, but not me, but not me !

Though Fm just a poor Negro, I know the world's going wrong; ah, and I know a mechanic who can fix it up right. Who sent for you ? When you get back to New York, send me some poor folks, poor like me, poor like me, poor like me! I'll give them my hand, and Fll sing with them, because the song they know is the same that I know. Z..H. 269 NICOLAS GUILLEN

WMSITA A IHV (Twristtis &ri un solar. Canta Cdntaliso un son qri&e no s& puede bailar}*

MEJOR que en hotel de lujo? quedense en este solar; aqui encontraran de sobra lo que alia no han de encontrar, Voy a presenter, seJSores^ a Juan Cocinero : tiene una mesa? tiene una silla,, tiene una silla., tiene una mesa^ y un reverbero ! El reverbero esta sin candela, muy disgustado con la ca^uela,

I Veran que alegre, que placentero, que alimerttado., que complacido^ pasa su vida Juan Cocinero! INTERHUMPE JUAN COGHNTERO

Con lo que un yanqui se tome de una visita a la barra, to* un ano cualquiera come ! SIGUE EL SON

. . . Y este es Luis? el caramelero; y este es Carlos^ el isleno? y aquel negro . se llama Pedro Martinez, y aquel otro, Norberto Soto, y aquella negra de mas alia, Petra Sarda. Todos viven en un cuarto, seguramente 270 NICOLAS GUILLEN

WMSMI* X A (Tourists in a tenement* Cantaiiso sings CL son that can't b& danced, to.}

RATHER than a first class hotel* stop here in this tenement; here you'll find more than enough of what you won't find there. Gents, I want to introduce Juan Cocinero : he owns one table, he owns one chair, he owns one chair, he owns one table, and a cooking-lamp ! The cooking-lamp is minus a wick, plenty disturbed about the stew. Youll see how happily, how agreeably, how well fed, how contentedly, Juan Cocinero passes his daysl JUAN COCHSDERO INTERKUPTS

On what a Yankee drinks in one visit to the bar, anyone else could eat for a whole year !

THE SON GOES OISF

And this is Luis the candymaker; and this is Carlos, from the Canaries ; and that Negro is called Pedro Martinez, and that other one Norberto Soto, and that Negress over yonder is Petra Sarda. They all live in one room, you bet, NICOLAS GUILLEN

porque sale mas barato. iQuegcnte, qu gente tan consecuente! TODOS A CORO

Con lo que un turista traga nada mas que en aguardiente, cualquiera un cuarto se paga !

SIGUE EL SON

... Y la que tose, senores, sobre esa cama, se llama Juana: tuberculosis en tercer grado, de un constipado muy mal cuidado. La muy idiota pasaba el dia sin un bocado. {Quebobena!

}Tanta comida que se ha botado ! TODOS A CORO

Con lo que un yanqui ha gastado no mas que en comprar botellas,

se hubiera Juana curado ! TERMINA EL SON

TuristaSj quedense aquf, a que voy hacerlos gozar ; turistas, quedense aqui? que voy a hacerlos gozar; cantandoles sones^ sones que no se pueden bailar,

272 NICOLAS GUILLEN

because it comes out cheaper that way ! What folks, what important folks ! FULL CHORUS

With what a tourist swallows in brandy alone anyone else could pay for a room! THE SON GOES ON

. . . And that one who's coughing, gents, over there on that bed her name is Juana: tuberculosis, third degree, coming from a cold that didn't get cured. The poor sap used to go all day without a mouthful to eat.

What a dope ! When there's so much food being thrown away! FULL CHORUS

With what a Yankee spends just buying bottles, Juana could have been cured! ENO OF THE SON

Tourists, just you stay here, feel I'm going to make you happy ; tourists, just you stay here, I'm going to make you feel happy, singing you sons, sons that can't be danced to. D.F. 273 NICOLAS GUILLEN

IMS PAPA a Vicente Martinez

la I QUEMASTE madrugada con fuego de in guitarra, zumo de cafia en la jicara de tu carne prieta y viva bajo luna muerta y blanca!

El son te salio redondo y mulato, como un nispero.

Bebedor de trago largo, garguero dc hoja de lata, en mar de ron barco suelto, jinete de la cumbancha: I que vas a hacer con la noche si ya no podras tomartela; ni que vena te dara la sangre que te hace falta, si se te fue por el cano negro de la punalada ?

Ahora si te { que rompieron^ PapaMontero!

En el solar te esperaban, pero te trajeron muerto; fue bronca de jaladera, pero te trajeron muerto; dicen que el era tu ecobio^ pero te trajeron muerto; el hierro no aparecio, pero te trajeron muerto * . . NICOLAS GUILLEN

To Vicente Martinez

You burned the dawn with the flame of your guitar, juice o the sweet cane in the gourd of your dusky quick flesh beneath a dead, white moon !

Music poured from you as round and mulatto as a plum*

Drinker of tall drinks., gullet of tin, boat cut loose in a sea of rum, horseman of the wild party : what will you do -with the night now that you can no longer drink it, and what vein -will give you back the blood you've lost, gone down the black drain of a knife-wound ?

They certainly got you this time, Papa Montero!

They were waiting for you in the tenement, but they brought you home dead; it was a drunken brawl,

but they brought you home dead ; they say he was your pal, but they brought you home dead ; nobody could find the knife, but they brought you home dead . . * NICOLAS GUILLEN

Ya se acabo I Baldornero., zumba^ canalla y rumbero !

Solo dos velas estan quemando un poco de sombra; para tu pequefia muerte con esas dos velas sobra,

Y aun te alumbran ? mas j que velas, la camisa colorada que ilumino tus canciones, la prleta sal de tus sones y tu melena planchada !

si te j Ahora que rompieron^ Papa Montero !

Hoy amaneclo la luna en el patio de mi casa ; de filo cayo en la tierra y alii se quedo clavada. {Los muchachos la cogieron para lavarle la cara^ y yo la traje esta noche y te la puse de almohada!

276 NICOLAS GUILLEN

Baldomero's done for Attaboy, you old dancing de&ill

Only two candles are burning a little of the shadow ; for your humble death two candles are too many. But brighter than the candles is the red shirt that lighted your songs, the dark salt of your music, your glossy straightened hair !

They certainly got you this time, Papa Montero !

Today the moon dawned in the courtyard of my house; it fell blade-wise to earth, and there it stuck. Tl^p kids picked it up and washed its face, so I bring it tonight to be your pillow !

2*77 ANGEL MIGUEL QUEREMEL

mm AMOM Y mm

COMO guitarra morena pulse tu cuerpo desnudo; cintas eran tus caf ello? cintas negras y sin into.

Con dientes de luna clara mordl la copla madura; se nos mojaron las sombras de leche fresca de iuna.

Cruzo tu grito la noche fiecha de oro ensangrentada: era la j Ay5 ay, ay, copla que a mi tanto me gustaba !

Cintas negras tus cabellos, cintas negras y sin luto; en mis manos los jazmines de tu llanto y tu gusto,

mi niiia I Ay morenita en los flecos de la sombra tejidos de copla y llanto de blanca luna y de aroma!

Cintas tus I eran cabellos, cintas negras y sin luto!

278 ANGEL MIGUEL QUEREMEL

BALLAD OF imm /mm

As ON a dark guitar, I played your naked body; your tresses were ribbons, black ribbons, but not of mourning.

With teeth of clear moonlight

I bit the song's ripe fruit; we lay drenched in the milky shadows of the moon.

Your cry winged the night- arrow of bloodwet gold:

Ai, ai, ai, it was the song

that pleased me so!

Black ribbons were your tresses, black ribbons, but not of mourning; in my hand the jasmines of your complaint and pleasure.

Ah little dusky girl in the shadowy fringes of woven song and sorrow,

white moon and scented sweetness !

Your tresses were ribbons,

black ribbons, but not of mourning! R.H. 279 JACINTO FOMBONA-PACHANO

UN AUEKTA PARA MMMAMAM UT1VCOUV

Mi capitan, yo he visto como salen del hueco de tu herida las abejas contentas, a posarse en los ojos de Walt Whitman y a mecerle la barba rumorosa.

Mi capitan, te busco porque oi que te quieren asesinar de nuevo. Y esta vez lo sabemos.

Oye las pisadas de quien tras de la puerta conspira entre langostas, suelta la nube y goza ya con el hartazgo de los verdes.

Alerta^ capitan, alerta. Que tiemblan las espigas y esta sombrio el cielo. Elitros y tenazas y oiandibulas te estan diciendo: alerta.

Alii, en tu palco.

Lo se yo y te lo digo, porque el eclipse anda rondando los campos mas hermosos. Y no quedara piedra sobre piedra^ porque ya tu ciudad esta llorando por sus grietas.

Si te matan de nuevo, quien sacara la miel de tus colmenas, ni encauzara los trenes de tu leche de paz a tus hormigas.

280 JACINTO FOMBQNA-PACHANQ

A WARNING FOR ABRAHAM UNCOLN

CAPTAIN, I have seen how from the hollow of your wound the bees emerge contented to settle upon the eyes of Walt Whitman and rock his rustling beard.

Captain, I am seeking you, for I have heard that they are trying to murder you again. And this time we know it

Listen to his footsteps who conspires behind the door among the locusts, loosing the swarm and gloating at the thought of their feast of green.

Beware, Captain, beware! For the ears of grain are trembling and the sky is sombre. Elytrons and pincers and mandibles are telling you: Beware!

There, in your theatre box.

tell I know it, and I you: for over die most beautiful fields hovers the eclipse, and no stone will remain on stone, crevices* for already your city is crying through its

If they kill you again, who will gather the honey from your beehives, or guide the trains of your milk of peace toward your ants ?

281 JACINTO FOMBONA-PACHANO

Si te matan de nuevo, quien vera por tus hormigas negras. Si te matan de nuevo, ya nunca mas sera posible, ni tan siquiera en el laurel del sueno, la ronda de tus hormigueros entre el sol y la noche.

Mi capitan, te busco para decirte que te buscan con la boca de la pistola que ya quisiera abrirte la nueva herida sin abejas, ay, porque en ese hueco de tu muerte sin sangre perecerian todas tus colmenas.

Y en donde pudieramos entonces enterrarte los que nos vamos por tu voz de abeja y bebemos de tus ojos tristes.

En d6nde, que no fueras un vivo sino un muerto.

EM M> AJOBUE

QUIERO un poerna3 quiero una cancion polaca, un valse de Paris, pero las bombas, las tenemos en casa.

Si, las tenemos en casa* Apagad ese radio para que pueda ser feliz America, cortad el ala a esos aviones,

282 JACINTO FOMBQNA-PACHANO

If they kill you again, who will look after your black ants ? If they kill you again, never more will it be possible, not even in the laurel of dream, for your ant-hills to swarm from dawn to dusk.

Captain, I am seeking you to tell you they are after you with the muzzle of the gun which already would open the new wound without bees: all, for in that hollow of your bloodless death all the beehives would perish.

And where then could we bury you, those of us who follow after your bee's voice and drink of your sad eyes ?

Where, if you were not living, but dead ? A.W.

SZEATM OVEJt TME AIM

I WANT a poem, I want a Polish song, a Paris waltz; but the bombs . we have them at home.

Yes, we have them at home. Shut off that radio so that America can be happy; clip the wmgs from those planes;

283 JACINTO FOMBONA-PACHANO

que ya hasta el rascacielo se siente roto y livido, que el miedo ya les amputo los ojos a los pobres negros del Sur.

Ay, la Marina y el Ejercito. Que haria la langosta con estos verdes campos, con tanto pensamiento como nos vino por el mar . . .

Ay, la Marina y el Ejercito. La mandibuia y la tenaza. Silenciad ese aire de los vientres hendidos, de las piernas cortadas, de los rostros sin piei. Quemad esa pelicula donde se mata a un mismo nino mas de un millon de veces.

Me esta doliendo el mundo en el bolsillo, en el limon para la cena^ en el dije del brazalete. No hay salvacion, no hay pnesto para todos.

Busco un tango argentine^ uri joropo de Venezuela., un jazz de Noiteamerica, pero las bombas,

Un poniente de siglos se ajboo las venas. Y el aire esta, senores, en toda latitud lloviendo sangre.

Apagad ese radio donde agonizan las colmenas porque ha llegado el reino de las plagas, donde se oyen caer heridas, cazadas en su fuga, las campanas. 284 JACINTO FQMBONA-PACHANO for even the skyscraper akeady feels broken and livid, and fear has amputated the eyes of the poor southern negroes. Ah, the Navy and the Army. What would- the locust do with these green fields,, with so much thought that has come to us by sea ? Ah, the Navy and the Army. Jaw and pincers. Clear that air of gaping bellies, of severed legs, of skinless faces. Burn that film where the same child is killed a million times over.

The world is aching in my pocket, in the lemon for supper, in the bracelet trinkets. There is no salvation, there is no room for us all.

I am dialing for an Argentine tango, a Venezuelan joropo,

North American jazz ; but the bombs

The age-old sunset has severed its veins,, and the air, gentlemen, is raining blood in every latitude.

Shut off that radio where the beehives are dying, for the reign of plagues has come, where one hears the bells, wounded, fall captured in their flight.

'

'

. .: .' . '. . 285. . JACINTO FOMBONA-PACHANO

No quiero respirar brazos de nadie, ojos saltados de palomas, corazones aullantes de mujeres, dedos, nnaSj cabellos de los ninos.

Quiero puro este aire, aire libre de America, para escribir la nueva ley.

Pero, me despiertan las bombas.

YO DMCEA MI CANT

Yo soy el que no sabe donde asentar los pies. Soy el de 1940. Soy el atado. Soy esa pared de aire que divide la conjuncion de dos expresos. Y ya he perdido el tacto de mis manos, pero guardo los ojos.

Y canto. Me gustaba salir con las ttormigas, volver con las abejas, dormir cofi los castores, marchar con las espigas hacia todas las bocas.

Hijos mfoSj la brisa de los pajaros, la brisa de los retonos y las aguas, jugaba en mis cabellos al color de Fray Luis y de Virgilio.

Y yo era duke y era verde y era de oro como los bosques y las albas.

286 JACINTO FOMBONA-PACHANO

I do not want to breathe the arms of anyone, gouged eyes of doves, howling hearts of women, fingers, nails, children's hair.

I want this air pure, free air of America, to write the new law.

Only, the bombs awake me. A.F.

WMHJE I SANG MW SONG

I AM he who knows not where to set his feet. I am of 1940. I am the fettered one. I am that wall of air which divides the meeting of two express trains. And already I have lost my sense of touch, but I keep my eyes.

And I sing. I used to like to go out with the ants, to return with the bees, to sleep with the beavers, and to go with ears of grain to every mouth.

My children, the breeze of the birds, the breeze of the green shoots and the waters, played on my hair the colour of Fray Luis and Vergil.

And I was sweet and I was green and I was golden like forests and dawns.

287 JACINTO FOMBONA-PACHANO

Si. Mis pies no encuentran tierra firme. Y no se lo que digo. Lo que digo es mi lamina temblando, son mis nubes entre versiculos. Y ahora llega San Juan y liega Atila.

Y quien esta sentado entre los angeles, el leon> el cordero^ la paloma y el buey, tiene en sus labios, ya caidas, las ciudades que se estan doblando,

Abrid esas ventanas. Mirad esos espejos donde la imagen del extrano es nuestra imagen. Y ofd mi voz que os ama a todos : no piseis las hormigas, no mateis las abejas, no derribeis la casa a los castores^ id con la espiga a cada estomago.

Jerusalem : America : ve tus que torres^ entre nubes ? tiemblan.

I Que viene por el aire ? . . .

La angustia? la langosta, la profecia.

He oido quebrarse el arbol en ausencia del viento con la aldea en cenizas que volo de una antena. He visto y lo que he visto sale de la trompeta y de los sellos.

Hay que volverse dulces, hijos mfos. Quiero asentar los pies. 288 JACINTO FOMBONA-PACHANO

Yes. Now my feet can find no solid ground, and I know not what I say. What I say is my tremulous image, my clouds among versicles. And now comes St. John, and Attila comes,

And he who sits among the angels, the lion, the lamb, the dove, and the ox, has upon his lips the cities which, now fallen^ are folding op. Open those windows. Look into those mirrors where the image of the stranger is our image. And listen to my voice that loves you all: do not tread on the ants, do not kill the bees, do not tear down the beavers* house, go with the ear of grain to every stomach.

Jerusalem: America: see how your towers in the clouds are trembling.

What comes through the air ? Anguish, locusts, prophecy.

I have heard the tree breaking 'when there was no wind with the village in ashes that flew from aji antenna, I have seen, and what I have seen issues from trumpets and from postage stamps.

One must be sweet again, my children. I want to set my feet on solid ground. A.F. 289 JACQUES ROUMAIN

MAT JLm TAM-TAM . . *

TON coeur tremble dans Fombre, comme le reflet d'un visage dans Fonde troublee L'ancien mirage se leve an creux de la nuit Tu connais le doux sortilege du souvenir : Un fleuve t'emporte loin des berges, T'emporte vers Fancestral paysage. Entends-tu ces voix: elles chantent Famoureuse douleur Et dans le morne, ecoute ce tam-tam haleter telle la gorge d'une noire jeune fille

Ton ame? c'est ce reflet dans Feau murmurante ou tes peres ont penche leurs obscurs visages Ses secrets mouvements te melent a la vague Et le blanc qui te fit mulatre, c'est ce peu d'ecume rejet4 comme un crachat, sur le rivage*

C'EST le lent chemin de Guinee

La mort t*y conduira les les Voici branchages5 arbres, la foret Ecoute le bruit du vent dans ses longs cheveux d'eternelle nuit

C'est le lent chemin de Guinee Tes peres t'attendent sans impatience Sur la route, ils palabrent Us attendent

Voici Fheure ou les ruisseaux grelottent comme des chapelets d'os JACQUES ROUMAIN

WHEN THE TOM-TOM MEATS . * .

YOUR heart trembles in the shadows, like a face reflected in troubled water

The old mirage rises from the pit of the night You sense the sweet sorcery of the past: A river carries you far away from the banks, Carries you toward the ancestral landscape. Listen to those voices singing the sadness of love And in the mountain, hear that tom-tom panting like the breast of a young black girl

Your soul is this image in the whispering water where your fathers bent their dark faces Its hidden movements blend you with the waves And the white that made you a mulatto is this bit of foam cast up, like spit, upon the shore. L.H. GUJiVJBA

IT'S the long road to Guinea Death takes you down Here are the boughs, the trees, the forest Listen to the sound of the wind in its long hair of eternal night

It's the long road to Guinea Where your fathers await you without impatience Along the way, they talk They wait This is the hour when the streams rattle like beads of bone

291 JACQUES ROUMAIN

Cest It lent chemin de Guinee

II ne te sera pas fait de lumineux accueil An nolr pays des homines noirs: Sous un ciel fiimeux perce de cris d'oiseaux Autour de Foei! du marigot les cils des arbres s'ecartent sur la clarte pourrissante

La, t'attend an bord de Feau un paisible village, Et la cas de tes peres, et la dure pierre familiale ou reposer enfin ton front.

292 JACQUES ROUMA1N

It's the long road to Guinea No bright welcome will be made for you

In the dark land of dark men : Under a smoky sky pierced by the cry of birds Around the eye of the river the eyelashes of the trees open on decaying light There, there awaits you beside the water a quiet village, And the hut of your fathers, and the hard ancestral stone where your head will rest at last. L.H.

293 MIGUEL OTERO SILVA

SIJEMBIfA

arbol CUANDO de mi no quede sino un 3 cuando mis huesos se hayan esparcido bajo la tierra madre; coando de ti no quede sino una rosa blanca qxie se nutrio de aquello que tu fuiste. Y haya zarpado ya con mil brisas distintas el aliento del beso que hoy bebemos; cuando ya nuestros nombres scan sonidos sin eco dormidos en la sombra de un sonido insondable; tu seguiras viviendo en la belleza de la rosa, como yo en el follaje del arbol y nuestro amor en el murmullo de la brisa.

jEscuchame! Yo aspiro a que vivamos en la palabra de los hombres. Yo quiero perdurar junto contigo en la savia profunda de la humanidad: en la risa del nino, en la paz de los hombres, en el amor sin lagrimas.

Por eso, como habremos de darnos a la rosa y al arbol, a la tierra y al viento, te pido que nos demos al futuro del mundo . .

294 MIGUEL OTERO SILVA

WHEN nothing remains of me but a tree, when my bones have been scattered beneath our mother earth : when nothing remains of you but a white rose nourished by that which once you were: when the breath of the kiss that we exchange today has embarked upon a thousand different breezes: when even our names have become mere sounds without echo asleep In the shade of a fathomless sound : then you will live on in the beauty of the rose,, and I in the rustling of the tree, and our love in the murmur of the breeze.

Listen to me!

wish for us is to live My ? in the spoken words of men. I would survive with you

in the deep lifestream of humanity : in the laughter of children, in the peace of mankind, in love without weeping.

Therefore, as we must give ourselves to the rose and the tree^ to the earth and the wind, let us give ourselves, I beg you, to the future of the world. D, D. W. 295 ALEJANDRO CARRION

BI7J5M A2VO

LES nacia la cancion en los labios como en la primavera les nace la alegria a las plantas. En los ojos ponian suavidad de caricia para mirar los campos: es qne liacia buen ano. El trigo, como nunca, lleno de oro la tierra. Se temia que faltase en la mesa un higar para el pan y que en los corazones no pudiese caber tanta alegria. En todas las miradas habian brotado flores y en todas las bocas fiorecian sonrisas. El amor nnnca tuvo mas parejas que unir que aliora, en el buen ano, dorado como el pan.

Pero no fee asi. Broto de la tierra una imindacion de trigales y flores* Pero entre los campesinos no desaparecio el hambre. De la ciiadad llegaron los senores a Ilevarse, entre risas, los frutos de la tierra y con ellos se llevaron, a su vez, las canciones. En todos los labios murieron las sonrisas. En las mesas vacias se oia suspirar por el pan. Todas las miradas descubrieron espinas en las flores y el amor se olvido como una leccion.

Un gran dolor brotaba de los campos e impedia el regreso a los senores. Se oia a los arboles protestar doloridos: jNunca hace buen ano para los labradores !

296 ALEJANDRO CARRION

TEAM

A SONG sprang to their lips, just as in spring joy is born to the new plants. Their eyes, with a caressing softness, looked out upon the fields: for it was a good year. The wheat, as never before, covered the earth with gold. There was fear that tables would not have room for the bread, and that hearts would prove too small for so much happiness. Flowers had burst into bloom in every glance,

and on every lip a smile was blossoming. Never had love so many couples to join as now, in the good year, golden as the bread.

But that was not how it turned out. A flood of wheatfields and flowers burst from the earth. But hunger did not disappear from among the farmers. The landlord gentry came from the city

to carry off, laughing, the fruits of the earth: and with these they took the singing as well.

On every lip the smiles died. At the empty tables there was sighing for bread. Every glance disclosed the thorn among the flowers, and love was forgotten like a school lesson.

A great sorrow sprouted from the fields to hinder the gentlemen on their way back home. The trees were heard in doleful protestation: The year is never good for those who till the soil! D,F. 297 MANUEL MORENO JIMENO

EMS MAUttTOS

COMO llagas arrastradas como sangrientas condenas^ a flor de los cadaveres,, en las cimas del panico, sobre los extensos territories florecidos del hambre sobre la honda alegria levantada del hambre

como siniestras cavernas de la voracidad i del fango.

Los dias del furor han ! j llegado

Los se han ! j tiempos cumplido

Como llagas arrastradas como sangrientas condenas. Solos, enlodados i negros sobre el ojo que espantosamente los mira sobre el dedo que implacablemente los senala.

Como llagas arrastradas como sangrientas condenas ! n

La rebelion fue para ellos sola sin su mancha sin su horror sin su sangre.

298 MANUEL MORENO JIMENO

LIKE wretched sores like bloody scourges, .on the surface o corpses,, at the peak of panic, across the broad territories flourishing with hunger above the profound joy which rises from hunger like dreadful caverns of voraciousness and of mud.

The days of wrath have come!

The times are fulfilled !

Like wretched sores like bloody scourges. Neglected., mudstained and black above the eye that fearfully observes them above the finger that implacably points to them,

Like wretched sores like bloody scourges!

ii Only for them was the rebellion without stain without horror without blood.

299 MANUEL MORENO JIMENO

Que desnuda venia el alba desdeel espanto!

HI

Que dinan los vientres a esa altura decldlo que dirian

Nadie grite para que ellos hablen nadie grite nadle liable.

Si no fuera por que gimen nunca jamas volverian, si no fuera por que lloran

este es su destino I j

Si no fuera . . * el ser que los apela i los clama ...si no fuera!

No los habeis visto solos ? pues, vedlos!

Quien diria que no quien los negaria vedlos! ... quien ? . . .

300 MANUEL MORENO JIMENO

How naked dawn came out of the terror ! m

What would bellies say at that height tell us what would they say

Let no one cry out so that they may speak let no one cry out let no one speak.

IV If there were no reason to groan they would never return, if there were no reason to weep* this is their destiny !

If it -were not for this An existence that calls them and shouts them

if it were not for this !

You have not seen them alone ? then, look at them!

would say No who would deny them

look at them! who?

30* MANUEL MORENO JIMENO

VT

Eran los dientes las unicas luces de su sombra las unicas luces las solas.

I desde aqui al panico que callaban, que no creian todo era furor toda era sangre.

302 MANUEL MORENO JIMENO

VI

Teeth were the only light in their darkness the only light none other.

And from here to the panic which they kept secret, in which they did not believe., all was fury all was blood.

H. JR. H.

303 OTTO D'SOLA

FJLJBMITUB

PUBIMOS hacer desde la hormiga a la estrella mas alta una larga historia que no acabara nunca; desde la roca a los pinares, desde los paramos a la cuna de un delgado viento reclennacido, pudimos dar al duro suelo sin riego la alegria de verse un astro y una flor abierta.

Traspasada de musicas, besos y mariposas, nuestra historia es la historia mas vieja del mundo, sin borrarse del tiempo como lo hacen los ecos, los fantasmas y las columnas que combaten en la niebla.

Una historia a manera de agua ronca y subterranea nos hubiese hecho sollozar infinitamente hasta hacernos los ojos navegables.

Nuestra historia se alza de la tierra a la estrella mas alta.

miramos los los J Que pequeiios paramos y pinares!

Vendran a lamentarse sobre nuestra historia todos los angeles que no podran nacer, la rosa que solo nace y muere en la noche sin conocer el dia, los azahares que emigran de las coronas nupciales.

Pudimos hacer desde la hormiga a la estrella mas alta la historia mas vieja del mundo.

? sientes ?

Adan esta cantando y Eva suspira despertando los aires!

304 OTTO D'SOLA

PLE2VITVOE

WE were able to weave from the ant to the loftiest star a long story that never will end; from rock to pine-groves, from wilderness to the cradle of a thin newborn wind, we were able to give the hard unwatered earth the happiness of seeing itself a star and an open flower.

Transfixed with music, kisses and butterflies, our story is the oldest story in the world, unobliterated by time, like echoes, phantoms, and columns which struggle in mist.

A story in the'manner of raucous and subterranean water would have made us weep infinitely, till our eyes became navigable.

Our story rises from the earth to the loftiest star.

How tiny we see the wildernesses and the pine-groves!

Over our story will come to lament all the angels that can not be born, the rose that is only born and dies in the night without knowing day, the orange-blossoms that emigrate from nuptial crowns.

We were able to weave from the ant to the loftiest star the

oldest story in the world.

Don't you hear ? Don't you feel it ?

Adam is singing, and Eve sighs, awakening the air! A.F. 305 OTTO D'SOLA

ANTES HJE JLLEGAR JLOS AVIO1VES ENCENBIAH LAS CttJDADES

Si mueren esos nifios dormidos bajo la madrugada de lirios abiertos, si mueren esos muros bajo la luna de xnusgos, para no herirnos cruelmente debes enterrarlo todo, callado sepulturero.

El clavel y la reja florida preguntan por el olvido, mientras las mariposas esperan besar cadaveres sobre las hutnedas yerbas.

Sepultnrero que vas a sentir la caida de los muros y el grito de los ninos aplastados, enterraras la

SI todo muere bajo esa lejana luna de musgos, para no herirnos cruelmente debes enterrarlo todo, callado sepulturero.

Cuidado con olvidar los ninos saben a j que trigo!

Cuidado con olvidar los muros saben a tdstoria ! | que Cuidado con olvidar la sabe a herida flaut j madrugada que

CANT FIIVAL A WNA MUCHAOLt BE FI7EHTO

LLEGARAS por el sendero de las nubes mutiladas en inviernc a la otra parte del mundo que te aguarda.

El brillo de tus ojos dira su despedida a todos los marinos borrachos que creen tener mares en la luna; y la brisa ira contigo vigilando tu silencio sobre los montes de olivos.

306 OTTO D'SOLA

COMilTO OF BUMN CITIES

IF yonder children asleep beneath the dawn of opened lilies should die, if yonder walls beneath the moon of moss should die, then not to wound us cruelly you must bury everything, silent gravedigger.

Carnation and blossoming window-grate beg forgetfulness^ while butterflies wait to kiss corpses on the damp grass.

Gravedigger who are going to hear walls falling and the screams of children being crashed, will you bury the dawn in the tomb of the mist ?

If everything under that distant moon of moss should die, then not to wound us cruelly you must bury everything, silent gravedigger.

Be careful not to forget the children who taste of wheat! Be careful not to forget the walls that taste of history! Be careful not to forget the dawn that tastes of wounded flutes! A.F. JLAST SONG TO A GIRL OF TM WATFJtFJROJVT

BY the path of winter-mutilated clouds you shall reach the other side of the world that waits for you.

The lustre of your eyes will say goodbye to all the drunken sailors think seas in the who they own moon ; and the breeze will go with you, guarding your silence over the mounts of olives.

307 OTTO D'SOLA

Bebe de ese vino que tiene el color de los cerrojos antiguos : en Venus la pena inmensa es llevar la garganta como un pajaro muertOj seca como HE pajaro muerto de cantar.

Moriran los calendarios como siempre y las otras muchachas como tu pensaran en la muerte,

Lamento no acompaiiarte duke muchaclia de doloroso azucar.

Qoemaran tu recuerdo frente al mar, mar indolente de consentirte desgarrada: sin un marioero que colme tu soledad, sin panes de corazones descubiertos, sin un balandro que te lleve a Fillplnas y a tus playas de verdes cocos que se beben los angeles.

Se de tu cabellera que tiene el peso de una marlposa nocturna, de tu olor y de to torso caido en las madrugadas, de aquel abanico de palomas que movias amanera de un ensuefio

i rostro asombrado.

Llegaras por el sendero de crueles vlentos invernales a la otra parte del mundo que te aguarda.

Te aguarda, con la corona de un Rey caido, con el oro fundldo en agua cristalina^ con de finas trajes sedas hechos azules aires^ con cl ruldo de este mundo que hondamente te Mere transformado en la minima presencia de un grillo sin canto.

Te aguarda, la Nada.

Entonces veras que estas limpia de todo entre las virgenes que no han amanecido aun. OTTO D'SOLA

Drink of that wine which has the colour of ancient latches:

in Venus the great sorrow is having a throat like a dead bird, parched like a bird dead from singing.

Calendars will die as always and other girls like you will think of death,

I am sorry not to accompany you sweet girl of dolorous sugar.

They will burn your remembrance before the sea, an indolent sea to tolerate your wantonness: without a sailor to fill your solitude, without the bread of open hearts, without a sloop to take you to the Philippines and to your shores of green coconuts drunk by the angels.

I know your hair, which has weight of a nocturnal butterfly, your scent and your torso fallen in the dawns, 5 your fan of doves feathers that once you waved as if in a dream above my astonished face.

By the path of cruel winter winds you shall reach the other side of the world that waits for you.

It waits for you, with the crown of a fallen King, with gold melted in crystalline water, with gowns of fine silk turned into blue air, with the noise of this world that wounds you so deeply softened to the tiny presence of a cricket without song.

There awaits you Nothingness.

Then you will see that you are washed clean of everything there among the virgins who have not yet awakened. AF. 309 PABLO NERUDA

WAJLKI1YG AROUND

SUCEBE que me canso de ser hombre. Sucede que entro en las sastrerias y en los cines marchito* Impenetrable, como un cisne de fieltro navegando en un agua de orlgen y ceniza.

E! olor de las peluquerias me hace llorar a gritos. Solo quiero un descanso de pledras o de lana, solo quiero no ver establecimientos ni jardines^ ni inercaderiasj ni anteojos, ni ascensores.

Sucede que me canso de mis pies y mis unas y mi pelo y mi sombra* Sucede que me canso de ser hombre.

Sin embargo seria delicioso asnstar a un notario con un lirio cortado o dar muerte a una monja con un golpe de oreja. Seria bello ir por las calles con un cuchillo verde y dando gritos hasta morir de rio.

No siendo raiz quiero seguir en las tinieblas ? vacilante, extendido, tiritando de suefio, hacia abajo, en las tripas mojadas de la tierra, absorbiendo y pensando, corniendo cada dia.

No quiero para mi tantas desgracias. No quiero continuar de raiz y de tumba, de subterraneo solo, de bodega con muertos, atcrido^ muriendoine de pena. PABLO NERUDA

WAIXING

IT so happens I am tired of being a man. It so happens, going into tailorshops and movies, I am withered, impervious, like a swan of felt navigating a water of beginnings and ashes.

The smell of barbershops makes me weep aloud. All I want is a rest from stones or wool, all I want is to see no establishments or gardens, no merchandise or goggles or elevators.

It so happens I am tired of my feet and my nails and my hair and my shadow. It so happens 1 am tired of being a man,

Yet it would be delicious to frighten a notary with a cut lily or do a nun to death with a box on the ear. It would be fine to go through the streets with a green knife, letting out yells until I died of cold.

I do not want to go on being a root in the darkness, vacillating, spread out, shivering with sleep, downwards, in the drenched guts of the earth, absorbing and thinking,, eating every day.

I do not want so many afflictions, I do not want to go on being root and tomb, being alone underground, being a vault for dead men, numb with cold, dying of anguish. PABLO NERUDA

Por eso el dia lunes arde como ei petroleo ve cara de carce! cuando me llegar con mi 5 y aulla en su transcurso como una nieda herida, y da pasos de sangre caliente hacia la noche.

Y me empuja a ciertos rincones, a ciertas casas humedas, a hospitales donde los huesos salen por la ventana, a ciertas zapaterias con olor a vinagre, a calles espantosas como grletas.

Hay pajaros de colorde azufre y horribles intestinos colgando de las puertas de las casas que odio, hay dentaduras olvidadas en una cafetera, hay espejos que debieran haber llorado de vergiienza y espanto, hay paraguas en todas partes, y venenos, y ombligos.

Yo paseo con calma? con ojos,, con zapatos, con furia, con olvido, paso, cruzo oiScinas y tiendas de ortopedia, y patios donde hay ropas colgadas de un alambre: calzoncilloSj toallas y camisas que lloran lentas lagrimas sucias.

RITI7AJL MS mm

LARGAMENTE he permanecido mirando mis largas piernas3 con ternura infinita y 'Oiriosaj con mi acostumbrada pasion, como si hubieran sido las piernas de una mujer divina, profundamente sumida en el abismo de mi torax: ts la cuando el el y qucy verdad, tiempo, tiempo pasa3 bre la tierra sobre el y techo, sobre mi impura cabeza, y pas% el tiempo pasa> y en mi lecho no siento de noche que PABLO NERUDA

That is why Monday blazes like petroleum when it sees me coming with my jailbird face, and it howls like a wounded wheel as it passes, and takes hot-blooded steps towards night.

And it shoves me into certain corners, certain damp houses, into hospitals where bones fly out of the window, into certain shoeshops with a stench of vinegar, into streets as frightful as chasms.

There are sulphur-coloured birds and horrible intestines hanging from the doors of the houses that I hate, there are false teeth forgotten in a coffeepot, there are mirrors that ought to have wept for shame and fear, there are umbrellas all over, and poisons, and navels*

I walk with composure, with eyes, with shoes on, with fury, with forgetfulness, I pass, I cross by offices and orthopedic shoeshops and patios with the washing hanging from wires: underdrawers, towels and shirts that weep slow filthy tears. H.ILH.

FOR a long time I have been staring at my long legs, with infinite and curious tenderness, with my customary passion, as though they were the legs of a divine woman sunk deep into the abyss of my thorax :

and the fact is, when time, when time passes* over the earth, over the roof, above my impure head, and passes, time passes, and in my bed at night I can not sense

3*5 PABLO NERUDA una esta durmiendo desnuda a mi Iado mujer respirando, 5 entonceSy extranas, obscuras cosas toman el lugar de la ausente, viciosoSj melancolicos pensamientos slembran pesadas posibllidades en ml dormitorio, y, as! pues, miro mis piernas como si pertenecieran a otro ctierpo, y fuerte y dulcemente estuvieran pegadas a mis entranas.

Como tallos o femeninas, adorables cosas, desde las rodillas suben cilindricas 3 y espesas, con turbado y compacto material de existencia, como bratales brazos ? gruesos de diosa, como arboles monstruosamente vestidos de seres humanos, como fatales, inmensos lablos sedientos y tranquilos, son alii la mejor parte de mi cuerpo : lo cnteramcate substancial, sin complicado contenido de sentidos o traqueas o intestinos o ganglios: sino lo lo nada, puro, duke y espeso de mi propia vida5 nada sino la el ? forma y volumen existiendo, guardando la vida, sin embargo, de una manera completa.

Las gentes cruzan el mundo en la actualidad sin apenas recordar que poseen un cuerpo y en el la vida, y hay miedo, hay miedo en el mundo de las palabras que designan el cuerpo, y se habla favorablemente de la ropa, de es pantalones posible hablar. de trajes de interior y ropa de mujer (de medias y ligas de *senora') como si las calles por fueran las prendas y los trajes vacios por completo, y un obscuro y obsceno guardarropas ocupara el mundo.

Tienen existencia los trajes, color, forma, dcsignio, y profundo lugar en nuestros initos, dernasiado lugar: dcmasiados mtiebles y demasiadas habitaciones hay en el mufido,

314 PABLO NERUDA die woman breathing, sleeping naked at my side, then strange obscure tilings take her place,, vicious, melancholy thoughts sow nagging possibilities in my bedroom., and then, well, I look at my legs as though they belonged to another body and had strongly and gently been attached to my own flesh.

Like stalks or female adorable things., they go up from the knees, cylindrical and thick, a restless and compact matter of existence, like the brutal thick arms of a goddess, like trees monstrously dressed as human beings,

like fatal, huge lips, thirsty and composed; they are the best part of my body : the entirely substantial part, with no complex content of senses or tracheas or intestines or ganglia: nothing but the pure, sweet, dense quality of my own life, nothing but form and volume existing, guarding life, nevertheless, in a thorough fashion.

People go through the world, as things are now, scarcely remembering that they own bodies and life in them, and there is fear in the world, there is fear of the words that designate the body, and clothing is discussed favourably, it is possible to speak of trousers, of si&s, and of women's underclothes (of stockings and garters for 'Madame'), as though garments and suits walked through the streets completely empty and a dark obscene clothes-closet had taken over the world.

Clothes have their existence, colour, form, design^ and a profound place in our myths, too much of a place: there is too much furniture, too many rooms in the world,

3*5 PABLO NERUDA

y mi cuerpo vlve entre y bajo tantas cosas abatido, con un pensamiento fijo de esclavitud y de cadenas.

Bueno5 mis rodiilas, como nudes, particulares, funcionarios, evidentes,

scparan las mitades de mis piernas en forma seca : y en reaildad dos mundos diferentes, dos sexos diferentes no son tan diferentes como las dos mitades de mis piernas.

Desde la rodilia hasta el pie una forma dura, mineral, friamente litil aparece, una criatura de hueso y persistences, y los tobillos no son sino el proposito desnudo, la exactimd y lo necesario dispuesto en definitiva.

Sin sensualidad, cortas y duras, y masoilinas, son alii mis piernas, y dotadas de grupos musculares como animales complementarios, y alii tambien una vida, una solida, sutil, aguda vida sin templar permanece, aguardando y actuando,

En mis pies cosquillosos, y duros como el sol, y abiertos como flores, y perpetnos, magnificos soldados^ en la guerra gris del espacio, todo la vida terniinay termina definitivamente en mis pies, lo extranjero y lo hostil allf comienza, los nombres del mundo, lo fronterizo y lo remoto, lo sustantivo y lo adjeti^l que no caben en mi corazon, con densa y fria constancia alii se originan. Siempre, productos manufacturados, medias, zapatos, o simplemente ake infinite, habra entre mis pies y la tierra, extremando lo aislado y lo solitario de mi set, tenazmente algo supuesto entre mi vida y la tierra, algo abiertamente invencible y enemigo.

516 PABLO NERUDA and my body lives crushed amid and beneath so many things^ with a fixed impression of slavery and of chains.

Well, then,, my knees, like knots, particular, functional, evident, effect a strict separation of the halves of my legs : and actually two different worlds, two different sexes, are not so different as the two halves of my legs.

From the knee to the foot they are solid orm, mineral, coldly useful, creatures of bone and endurance, and the ankle-bones are nothing but naked intention^ the exact and the essential disposed once and for all.

My legs are without sensuality, short and hard and masculine, furnished with groups of muscles like complementary animals, and there too a life, a solid, subtle, keen life, exists untempered, waiting and acting.

In my ticklish feet, hard as the sun, and open as flowers, perpetual, magnificent soldiers in the grey war of space, everything ends, life ends once and for all in my feet: there begins what is hostile and alien ; the names of the world, the near and the remote, the substantival and adjectival that are too great for my heart have their origin there, with a dense, cold, constancy.

Always, manufactured articles, hose, shoes, or simply infinite air, will come between my feet and the earth, intensifying what is isolated and solitary in my being, something doggedly thrust between my life and the earth, something clearly unconquerable and hostile. D.F. 3*7 PABLO NERUDA

CABALiJERO ,

Los jovenes homosexualcs y las muchachas amorosas, y las largas viudas que sufren el delirante insomnio, y las jovenes senoras prenadas hace treinta horas, y los roncos gatos que crazan mi jardfn en timeblas, como tin collar de palpitantes ostros sexuales

rodean mi residcncia solitaria, como enemigos establecidos contra mi alma, como conspiradores en traje de dormitorio qoe cambiaran largos besos espesos por consigna.

El radiaote verano conduce a los enamorados en uniformes regimientos melancolicos5

hechos de gordas y flacas y alegres y tristes pare] as : bajo los elegantes cocoteros, junto al oceano y la lima hay una continua vida de pantalones y polleras, un rumor de medias de seda acariciadas., y senos femeninos que brillan como ojos. El pequeno empleadoj despues de mucho, despues del tedio semanal, y las novelas leidas de noche, en cama, ha definitivamente seducido a su vecina, y la lleva a los miserables cinematografos donde los heroes son potros o principes apasionados, y el acaricia sus piernas llenas de dulce vello con sus ardientes y humedas manos que huelen a cigarillo.

Los atardeceres del seductor y las noches de los esposos se unen como dos sabanas sepultandome, y las horas despues del almuerzo en que los jovenes estudiantes, las los sacerdotes se y jovenes estudiantes, y masturban3 y los animates foriakan directamente, las huelen a las y abejas sangre? y moscas zuinban colericas, 318 PABLO NERUDA

JLOJVJE

THE homosexual young men and the amorous girls, the and long widows suffering from delirious sleeplessness, and the young wives thirty hours pregnant, and the raucous cats that cross my garden in the dark: these like a collar of throbbing sexual oysters circle my lonely dwelling, like enemies set up against my soul, like conspirators in bedroom costume exchanging long thick kisses for countersign.

Radiant summer leads the enamoured ones in identical melancholy regiments composed of fat and thin and gay and sorry pairs: under the genteel coconut palms> near the sea and the moon, there's a continual life of breeches and petticoats, a murmur of caressed silk stockings, and feminine breasts sparkling like eyes. The petty employee, after much fussing, after the weekly boredom, the novels read in bed at night, has once and for all seduced his neighbour, and he escorts her to the wretched movie palaces where the heroes are either colts or impassioned princes, and with his hot damp cigaret-smelling hands he strokes her legs ensheathed in their sweet down.

The seducer's evenings and the nights of the married couples like sheets to join twin bury me ; and the hours after luncheon when the young students and the young co-eds and the priests pollute themselves^ and the animals couple frankly, flies and bees smell of blood t and buzz angrily,, 319 PABLO NERUDA

y los primes juegan extrafiamente COB sus primas, y los medicos miran con furia al marido de la joven paciente, y las lioras de la maiiana en que el profesor, como por descuido, aimple con su deber conyugal, y desayuna, y mas atin, los adiilteros, que se aman con verdadero amor sobre lechos altos y largos como embarcaciones: seguramente, eternamente me rodea este gran bosque respiratorio y enredado con grandes flores como bocas y dentaduras y negras raices en forma de ufias y zapatos.

0ESTJH7CCIOWES

DESPUES de muclio, despues de vagas leguas, confuso de domlnios^ incierto de territorios, acoinpanado de pobres esperanzas, y companias infieles, y descoafiados siienos, amo lo teaaz que aon sobrevlve en mis ojos, oigo con mi corazon mis pasos de jinete, muerdo el fuego dormido y la sal arminada, y de noche, de atmdsfera obscura y luto profugo, aquel que vela a la orilla de los campamentos, el viajero armado de esteriles resistencias, detenido entre sombras que crecen y alas que tiemblan, me siento ser, y mi brazo de piedra me defiende.

Hay entre ciencias de llanto un altar confuso, y en mi sesion de atardeceres sin perfume, en mis abandonados donnitorios donde habita la luna, f arafias de mi propiedad, y destracciones que me son queridas, actor mi propo ser pordido, mi substancia im{^rfecta, mi gplpc de plata y mi p^dida ctorna. PABLO NERUDA

and cousins play strangely with their girl cousins, and doctors glare furiously at die husband ofthe young patient, and the morning hours when the professor, absent-mindedly, fulfils his conjugal duty, and sits down to breakfast, and, even more, the adulterers who love each other truly on beds as lofty and long as ocean liners : this great breathing and entangled wood securely and eternally hems me in with its flowers huge as mouths and dentures and its black roots shaped like fingernails and shoes,

D.F.

S&NATA AND DESTRUCTIONS

AFTER long, after vague leagues, confused of dominions, uncertain of territories, accompanied by poor hopes, and faithless companions, and diffident dreams, I love the tenacity which still survives in my eyes, I hear with my heart my equestrian steps, I bite the sleeping fire and the ruined salt, and in nights of dark atmosphere and fugitive mourning, he who keeps watch by the shore of the camps the traveler armed with sterile resistances, detained among shadows that grow and wings that tremble I feel myself to be, and my stone arm defends me.

There is among the sciences of tears a confused altar, and in my perfumeless afternoon sessions^ in my abandoned bedrooms inhabited by the moon, and the spiders of my property, and destructions which are dear to me, I adore my lost self, my imperfect substance, my blow of silver and my eternal loss. PABLO NERUDA

Ardio la uva humeda, y su agua funeral arm vacila, auifreside, y el patrimonio esteril, y el domicllio traidor.

I Quien hizo ceremonia de cenlzas ?

I Quien amo lo perdido, quien protegio lo ultimo ? I El hueso del padre, la madera del buque muerto, y su propio final, su misma huida, su fuerza tristc, su dios miserable ? Acecho, pueSj lo inanimado y lo doliente, y el testiraonio extraiio que sostengo con eficiencia cruel y escrito en cenizas, es la forma de olvido que prefiero, el a la tierra el nombre que doy ? valor de mis suefios, la cantidad Interminable que divido con mis ojos de invierno, durante cada dia de este mundo.

JLA

HAY cementerios solos, tumbas llenas de huesos sin sonido, el corazon pasando un tunel oscuro, oscuro, oscuro, como un hacia naufragio adentro nos morimos? como ahogarnos en el corazon, como irnos cayendo desde la piel al alma.

Hay cadaveres, hay pies de pegajosa losa frfa, hay la muerte en los huesos, coino un sonidcipuro, como un iadrido sin perro, saliendo de ciertas conipanas, de ciertas tumbas, creciendo en la humedad como el llanto o la lluvia,

' Yo veo% solo, a veces ataudes a vela, 322 PABLO NERUDA

The humid grape burned, and Its funeral w^ter still vacillates, still lingers, and the sterile patrimony, and the treacherous domicile. Who made ceremony of ashes ? Who loved the lost, who protected the ultimate ? The bone of the father, the timber of the dead ship, and his own end, his very flight, his sad strength, his wretched god ? I lie in ambush, then, for the inanimate and the sorrowful, and the strange testimony which I bring with cruel efficiency and written in ashes is the form of oblivion which I prefer, the name which I give the earth, the worth of my dreams, the interminable quantity which I divide with my wintry eyes, each day of this world. A.F.

WEAYW AJLONE

THERE are lonely cemeteries. graves full of bones without sound, the heart passing through a tunnel, dark, dark, dark, as in a shipwreck we die from within as we drown in the heart, as we fall out of the skin into the soul.

There are corpses, there are feet of cold, sticky clay, there is death within bones, like pure sound, like barking without dogs, emanating from several bells, from several graves, swelling in the humidity like tears or rain. I see, alone, at times coffins with sails,

323 PABLO NERUDA

zarpar con difuntos palidos, coo inujeres de trenzas muertas, con panaderos blancos como angeles, con niiias pensativas casadas con notarios, ataudes subiendo el rio vertical de los muertos, el rio morado, el la hacia arriba, con las velas hinchadas por sonido de muerte> Mnchadas por el sonido silencioso de la muerte.

A lo sonoro llega la muerte sin como tin zapato sin pie? con on traje hombre, llega a golpear con un anillo sin piedra y sin dedo, a sin sin sin llega gritar boca? lengua, garganta.

Sin embargo sus pasos siienan y su vestido suena> callado, como on arbol.

Yo no se, yo conozco poco, yo apenas veo, de pero creo quc su canto tiene color violetas'Mmedas> de violetas acostombradas a la tierra, porque la cara de la muerte es verde, y la mirada de la muerte es verde, con la agoda homedad de ona hoja de violeta y so grave color de invierno exasperado.

Pero la moerte va tambien por el mondo vestida de escoba, lame el soelo buscando diuntos? la muerte esta en la escoba, es la lengoa de la muerte boscando muertos, es la aguja de la muerte buscando hilo.

La muerte esta en los catres ; en los colchones lentos, en las frazadas negras vivc tendida, y de repente sopla: sabanas sopla un sonido oscuro que hincEa ; y hay camas oavegando a un poerto en doade esta esporando* vestida de almirante. 324 PABLO NERUDA bearing away pallid dead, women with dead tresses, bakers white as angels, pensive girls married to public notaries, coffins ascending the vertical river of the dead, the purple river, upstream, with sails filled by the sound of death, filled by the silent sound of death.

On the sonor^s shore death arrives like a shoe without a foot, like a suit with a man, arrives to knock with a stoneless, fingerless ring, arrives to shout without a mouth, without a tongue, without a throat.

Still its steps echo, and its clothing echoes, hushed, like a tree.

I do not know, I understand but little, I hardly see, but I think that its song has the colour of humid violets, of violets accustomed to the soil, for the face of death is green, and the glance of death is green, with the penetrating moisture of a violet leaf and its sombre colour of exasperated winter.

But death also goes through the world disguised as a broom lapping the floor, in search of the dead, death is in the broom, is the tongue of death seeking the dead, is the needle of death seeking the thread,

is in the cots Death folding ; in the slow mattresses, in the black blankets it lives supine, and suddenly it blows: it blows a dismal sound that swells up the sheets; and the beds go sailing toward a port where death is waiting, dressed like an admiral. A.F. PABLO NERUDA

HE vencido al angel del sueno, el funesto alegorico: su gcstion insistia, su dense paso llega envuelto en caracoles y cigarras, de frutos y perfumado agudos.

Es el vlento que agita los meses, el silbido de un tren, ei paso de la temperatura sobre el lecho, on opaco sonldo de sombra que cae como trapo en lo interminable,

una repeticion de dlstancias5 un vino de color confundido, un paso polvorknto de vacas bramando.

A veces su canasto negro cae en mi pecho, sus sacos de dominio hieren mi hombro, su multitud de sal, su ejercito entreabierto recorren y revueiven las cosas del cielo: ei galopa en la respiraclon y su paso es de beso: so salitre seguro planta en los parpados con vigor esencial y solemne proposito: entra en lo preparado como un dtteiio: su substancia sin niido equipa de pronto, su alimento profetico propaga tenazmente.

Reconozco a menudo sus guerreros, sus piezas corroidas por el aire, sus dimensiones, y su necesidad de espacio es tan violenta que baja hasta mi corazon a buscarlo: el es el propietario de las mesetas inaccesibles, el baila con personajes tragicos y ootidianos ; dc noche rompe mi piel su acido aeteo y escucho en mi interior temblar su instnunento. 326 PABLO NERUDA

I VANQUISHED the angel of sleep, he of mournful allegory: Ms effort persisted, his dense step came wrapped in seashelis and cicadas, maritime, perfumed with sharp fruits.

It is the wind that shakes the months, the whistle of a train, the passage of temperature over the bed, an opaque sound of shade that drops like a rag into the interminable, a repetition of distances, a wine of confused colour, a dusty step of cows bellowing.

At times his black basket falls upon my chest, his bags of authority hurt my shoulders, his multitude of salt, his half-opened army of the heavens disperse and upset the things ; his breathing gallops and his step is made of kisses : his sure brine implants the eyelids with essential vigour and solemn purpose: like a lord he enters places prepared for him: his noiseless substance furnishes suddenly, Ms prophetic nourishment propagates tenaciously,

Often I recognize his warriors, Ms weapons corroded by the air, his dimensions, and so violent is his need for space that he sinks to my heart in search of it: he is the proprietor of inaccessible tablelands, he dances with tragic and everyday personages: at night his aerial acid pierces my skin and inwardly I listen for the trembling of Ms instrument. 327 PABLO NERUDA

Yo oigo el sueno de viejos compaiieros y mujeres amadas, suefios cuyos latldos me quebrantan : su material de alfombra piso en siiencio, su Inz de amapola muerdo con delirio.

Cadaveres dormidos que a meniido al danzan asidos peso de mi corazon3 que ciudades opacas recorremos!

Mi pardo corcel de sombra seagiganta, y sobre envejecidos tahores, sobre lencxinios de escaleras gastadas, sobre lechos de nifias desnudas, entre jugadores de foot-ball, del viento cenidos pasamos: y entonces caen a nuestra boca esos fmtos biandos del cielo, los pajaros, las campanadas conventuales, los cometas; aqoel que se autrio de geograffa pura y estremecimiento ese tal vez nos vio pasar centelleando.

Camaradas cuyas cabezas reposan sobre barriles, en en desmantelado buqne profugo, lejos, amigos mios sin lagrimas> mujeres de rostro cruel : la medianoclie ha llegado, y un gong de muerte golpea en torno mio coino el mar. Hay en la boca el sabor, la sal del dormido, ficl como una condena a cada cuerpo. La palldez del distrito letargico acude: rfa una sonrisa f sumergida? unos ojos cubiertos como fatigados boxeadores, una respiracion que sordamente devora fantasmas.

En esa humedad de nacimiento, con esa proportion tenebrosa, cerrada como una bodega, el aire es criminal: las paredes tienen un triste color de cocodrilo, una contextura de arana siniestra: 328 PABLO NERUDA

I hear the sleep of old comrades and beloved women, sleep whose palpitations crush me; silently I tread his carpet-like material, with delirium I bite his poppy light.

Corpses asleep which often dance clinging to the weight of my heart, what opaque cities we tour !

My dark shadowy steed grows tall as a giant, and over ancient gambling houses, over pimping trafficking on wornout stairs, over the beds of naked girls, among football players^ we pass girding the wind : and then into our mouths fall those soft fruits of the $ky? the of convent kites birds, tolling bells, ; he who nourished himself on pure geometry and quivering probably saw us flash by.

Comrades whose heads repose on barrels in a dismantled fugitive ship, far away, tearless friends of mine, women of cruel countenance: midnight arrives, and death's gong strikes around me like the sea.

There is in my mouth the taste, the salt of the sleeping one, faithful as a sentence condemning each body. The pallor of the lethargic realm appears: a submerged cold smile, eyes covered like weary boxers, a breathing which deafly devours ghosts. * *

In this of birth with this tenebrous humidity 3 proportion,

shut like a winecellar, the air is criminal : the walls have a sad crocodile colour, a sinister spidery texture:

329 PABLO NERUDA se pisa en lo blando como sobre un monstruo muerto; las uvas negras inmensas, repletas, cuelgan de entxe las rainas como odres, oh Capitaii,, en nuestra hora de reparto abre los mudos cerrojos y esperame: alii debemos cenar vestldos de luto : el enfermo de malaria goardara las puertas.

MI corazon, es tarde y sin orillas, el dia como un pobre mantel puesto a secar oscila rodeado de seres y extension: de cada ser viviente hay algo en la atmosfera: mirando mucho el aire aparecerian mendigos, bandidos abogados3 ? carteros, costureras, y un poco de cada oficiOj un resto humillado quiere trabajar su parte en nuestro interior. Yo busco desde antaiio, yo examino sin arrogancia, sin lo conquistado, duda ? por vespertine.

7 mm NwimmmmE UN miA

Conmsmorando el qidnto anzversario de la Defensa de Mtzdrid, y el uigesimo cuarto de la Creation de la U. R. S. S.

ESTE doble aniversario^ este dia, esta noche, hallaran un mundo vacio., encontraran un torpe htiieco de corazones desolados ? No, mas que un dia con horas,

330 PABLO NERUDA

one treads upon softness as on a dead monster : immense black grapes, replete, hang from among the ruins like wineskins^ O Captain, in our hour of allotment open the mute bolts and wait for me : there we must dine dressed in mourning: the malaria patient will stand guard at the gates.

My heart, it is late and there are no shores, the day like a wretched tablecloth hung out to dry oscillates surrounded by beings and extension: there is something of every living being in the atmosphere : watching the air carefully beggars would appear, lawyers, bandits, postmen, seamstresses, and a little of every profession, a humiliated remainder wants to do its part within us. In years I have been seeking, without arrogance I have been examining, vanquished, no doubt, by the vespers. A.F.

7

OWE TH A DAY >F

Commemorating the fifth anniversary of the defense of Madrid^ and the tw&nty- fourth of the Foundation of the UJSJR.

THIS double anniversary, this day, this night a will they find an empty worldy discover heavy hollow of forlorn hearts ? No: rather than a day with hours,

33* PABLO NERUDA es un paso de espejos y de espadas, es una doble flor que golpea la noche hasta arrancar el alba de su cepa nocturna !

Dia de Espana que del Sur vienes, vaiiente dia de plumaje ferreo, llegas de alii, del ultimo que cae con la frente quebrada con tu cifra de fuego todavia en la boca !

Y vas alii con nuestro recuerdo insumergido : td fulste el dia, td eres la lucha, tu sostienes la columna invisible^ el ala de donde va a nacer, con tu nximero, el vuelo!

Siete3 Noviembre, en donde vlves ?

En donde arden los petalos? en donde tu silbido dice al hermano: sube! y al cafdo: levantate! ? En donde tu laurel crece desde la sangre y atravlesa la pobre carne del liombre y sube a construir el heroe ?

En tf, otra vez, Union, en ti otra s vez, liermana de los pueblos del mundo, Patria pura y sovietica, vuelve a ti tu semilla grande como un follaje derramado en la tierra !

No hay llanto para ti, Pueblo, en tu lucha! Todo ha de ser de hierro, todo ha de andar y herir, todo hasta el ? impalpable silencio, hasta la duda, liasta la misma duda que con mano de invierno nos busque el corazon para helarlo y hundirlo, todo, hasta la alegria, todo sea de hierro para ayudarte, hermana y madre, en la victoria! PABLO NERUDA it Is a procession of mirrors and swords, a double flower that beats against the night until it wrenches dawn from its nocturnal roots!

Day of Spain proceeding from the South, brave day of iron plumage: you coine from yonder, from the last man to fall with Ms temples split, with your fiery numeral yet upon his lips!

And you go there with our memory unsubmerged: you were the day, you are the struggle, you shore up the invisible column, the wing whence flight, with your numeral, will be born !

Seven : November: where is your dwelling ? Where are the burning petals ? Where your whispered J 'Go upF to the brother, and, to the fallen, 'Arise ! ? Where is your laurel growing out of blood, pushing up through man*s frail flesh and rising to fashion the hero ? In you, once more, O Union, in you, once more, sister to the peoples of the world, pure and soviet Homeland! To you returns your seed, in a leafy flood that spills across the earth !

No mourning for you, O People, in your fight! All must be iron, all must march and strike, all, even impalpable silence, even doubt, even that very doubt with wintry hand groping for our hearts to freeze them and crush them: all, even joy, let all be of iron to aid you, sister and mother, in victory!

333 PABLO NERUDA

Que el que reniega hoy sea escupido ! Que el miserable hoy tenga su castigo en la hora de las horas, en la sangre total, que el cobarde retorne a las tinieblas, que los laureles pasen al valiente, al vallente camino, a la valiente nave de nieve y sangre que defiende el mundo!

Yo te saiudo, Union Sovietica, en este dia, con humildad: soy escrltor y poeta. MI padre era ferroviario : siempre fulmos pobres. Estuve ayer contlgo, lejos, en ml pequeno pafs de grandes lluvias. Alii credo tu nombre caliente, ardiendo en el pecho del pueblo, hasta tocar el alto clelo de mi republics!

Hoy pienso en ellos> todos estan contigo ! De taller a taller, de casa a casa, vuela tu nombre como un ave roja!

Alabados scan tus heroes, y cada gota cle tu sangre, alabada sea la desbordante marejada de pechos que cjpfienden tu pura y orgullosa morada!

Alabado sea el heroico y amargo pan que te nutre, mientras las puertas del tiempo se abren para que tu Ejercito de Pueblo y de hierro marche cantando entre ceniza y paramo, sobre los asesinos, a plantar una rosa grande como la luna en la fina y divlna tlerra de la victoria!

[1941]

334 PABLO NERUDA

Let today's denier be spat upon! Today let the wretch meet his punishment In the hour

of hours? in total blood., let the coward go back to his murk, let the laurels pass to the brave, the brave highway, the brave ship

of snow and blood that defends the world !

I greet you. Soviet Union, on this day, rnbly: I am a writer., a poet. r father was a railroad worker: we were always poor, p as with you yesterday, far away in my small intry of the big rains. There grew your name, the hot3 burning in people's breast* until it touched my republic's lofty skies!

I all I am thinking of them today3 they are with you From workshop to workshop^ from house to house, your name flies like a red bird !

Praised be your heroes, and every drop of your blood; praised be the overflowing tide of hearts

that defend your pure proud land I

Praised be the heroic bitter bread of your nourishment, while the doors of time swing wide

for youjr People's Army of iron to march singing among ashes and cold wastes against the murderers, to plant a rose immense as the moon in the fine divine earth of victory!

335 PABLO NERUDA

JEOTIJEffltRO Em EJL ESTE

Yo trabajo de noetic, rodeado de cludad, de pescadores, de alfareros, de difuntos quemados con azafran y frutas, envueltos en muselina escarlata: bajo mi balcon esos muertos terribles pasan sonando cadenas y flautas de cobre, estrldentes y finas y liigubres silban entre el color de las pesadas flores envenenadas y el grito de los ceniclentos danzarines y el creciente monotone de los tam-tam y el humo de las maderas que arden y huelen.

Porque Una vez doblado el camino, junto al turbio rio, sus corazones detenidos o iniciando un mayor movimiento, rodaran quemados^ con la pierna y el pie hectios fuego, y la treinula ceniza caera sobre el agna, flotara como ramo de flores calcinadas o como extinto fuego dejado por tan poderosos viajeros que hicieron arder algo sobre las negras agiias, y devoraron un alimento desaparecido y un licor extreme.

336 PABLO NERUDA

BI7KI4JL IN TMM EAST

I WORK at night, surrounded by city, by fishermen,, by potters, by corpses burned with saffron and fruit, wrapped in scarlet muslin : underneath my balcony those terrible dead go by, sounding their chains and copper flutes, strident and clear and lugubrious they pipe amid the colour of heavy poisoned flowers and the cry of the ash-coloured dancers and the mounting monotony of the drums and smoke from logs that burn and smell.

For, once they reach the turn In the road, near the turbid river, their hearts unmoving, or in greater movement, they will roll burning, leg and foot made flame, and the tremulous ashes will fall upon the water, will float like a cluster of calcined flowers or a quenched fire left by travelers so powerful that they burned something over the black waters^ and devoured a vanished food, an utter liquor. A.F.

337 EFRAIN HUERTA

A1MA

T rcpito que descubri el silenclo aquella lenta tarde de tu nombre mordido, carbonizado y vivo en la gran llama de oro de tus diecinueve anos. Ml amor se desllgo de las auroras para entregarse todo a tu murmullo, a tu cristal murmullo de madera blanca incendiada.

Es una herida de alfiler sobre los lablos tu recuerdo, y hoy escribi leyendas de tu vida sobre la superficie tierna de una manzana, Y mientras todo eso, mis impulsos permanecen inquietos, csperando que se abra una ventana para segulrte o estrellarse en el cemento doloroso de las banquetas. Pero de las montanas viene un ruido tan frio que recordar es muerte y es agonfa el sueno.

Y el silencio se aparta, temeroso del cielo sin estreilas, de la prisa de nuestras bocas y de las camellas y claveles desfallecldos.

ii

Expliquemos al vlento nuestros besos, Piensa que cl alba nos entiende: ella sabe lo bien que saboreamos el rumor a llmones de sus ojos, el agua blanca de sus brazes. 338 EFRAIN HUERTA

I TELL you again that I discovered silence that slow afternoon when your name was etched? carbonized alive in the great gold flame of your nineteen years* My love shook off the ties of dawn to give itself wholly to- your murmur, to your crystal murmur of white wood flame,

is a Your memory pinprick on my Iips5 and today I composed myths of your life upon the delicate surface of an apple. And all the while my impulses are restless* waiting for the opening of a window to follow you or to dash to pieces on the sad sidewalk cement. But from the mountains comes so cold a sound that remembering is death, and sleep a torment.

And the silence withdraws timidly from the starless sky, from the urgency of our mouths, and from the withered camelias and carnations,

ii

Let us explain our kisses to the wind* Think: dawn understands us: she knows how much we relish the lemon murmur of her eyes, the white water of her arms.

339 EFRAIN HUERTA

(Parece que los dientes rasgan trozos de nleve. El frio es grande y siempre adolescente. Ei frio, el frio: ausencla sin olvido).

Cantemos a las flares cerradas, a las mojeres sin scnos y a los nifios que no miran la luna. Cantemos sin miraraos.

MIenten aquellos pajaros y esas cornlsas. Nosotros no nos amamos ya. Realmente nunca nos amamos. Llegamos con el deseo y seguimos con el. Estamos en el ruido del alba, en el umbral de la sabiduria, en el seno de la locora.

Dos columnas en el atrio donde mendlgan las pasiones. PerduramoSj gozamos simplemente.

Expliquemc^ al vlento nuestros besos y el amargo sentido de lo qoe cantamos>

No es el amor de uego ni de marmoL

El amor es la pledad que nos tenemos.

EN el oscuro oelo mi recuerdo. Hombre desnudo y luz; sabldurfa y letargo; tardanza y prisa rnuerta* 340 EFRAIN HUERTA

(You would say that teeth are crunching chunks o snow. Cold is big and ever adolescent. Cold, cold : absence without forgetting.)

Let us sing to shut flowers, to breastless women, and to children who do not watch the moon. Sing without looking at each other.

They are liars, those birds and cornices. We are in love no longer. We were never really in love. We came with desire and we go along with it. We are in the dawn's sound, on the threshold of wisdom, at the heard of madness.

Two columns in the courtyard where passions beg for alms. We endure* we enjoy simply.

Let us explain our kisses to the wind and the bitter burden of our singing.

Love is neither fire nor marble.

Love is the pity that we feel for one another. IX F.

MY memory in the dark sky. Naked man and light; wisdom and lethgrgy; delaying and dead haste.

341 EFRAIN HUERTA

Recuerdo inagotable como fatiga sorda dolor del crepusculo* Recuerdo: imagen larga y cruel. Llanura virgen. Miitilada sonrisa y seiva desprovista de pajaros. Blanco y verde el recuerdo; nunca negro ni oro, sino lento de sueno como sangre reciente. Tiblo como penumbra marchlta en la que hubiesen muerto cientos de luces tristes.

(Habia llegado a mi presencia. Era senclllamente un hombre fatlgado, con la- yoz apagada y las manos dormidas. Recuerdo. Recuerdo ese murmullo del sudor en su cuerpo. El sol caia a pedazos en el mundo agitado. Yo solo yo con el recuerdo,)

Primero fue la Muerte. Era en el mes de junio y nuestras vidas parecian rfos inquietos con fiebre? soledades nacldas al calor de un helecho, Sobre la TIerra tibia Grecian hombres y arboles, negras nubes, y rosas, y canciones. Clarisima ternura como dia arnanecido.

Asi llego el abismo, portentoso y solemne, del Amor necesario: sueno fragante y tknido. Era en el mes de junto. Y las frutas maduras los duraznos, las uvas parecian imprevistos murmullos sofocados y ciegos. No veimos. No vimos. La niebla la inventamos^ pero nos apretaba como corteza seca.

El ! Recia 1 Amor domlnaba y blanda dolencia, en el pecho, en las manos; cuando el alba la y lluvia ; cuando el calor y el frio, EFRAIN HUERTA

Memory exhaustless as deaf weariness or twilight grief. Memory : long creel image. Virgin plain. Mutilated smile and woodland stripped of birds. Memory white and green; black and gold never, but slow with sleep as fresh-spilt blood. Tepid as a withered penumbra in which have perished hundreds of dismal lights.

(He had come before me. He was simply a tired man with extinguished voice and sleeping hands. I remember. I remember that murmur of sweat on his body. The sun fell piecemeal upon the shaken world. And I alone with the memory.)

Death was first, It was in the month of June and our lives were like uneasy feverish rivers, loneliness born in the heat of some fern. On the lukewarm earth men and trees were growing, black clouds, and roses, and songs, Clearest tenderness like risen day.

And so came the abyss, fatal, solemn, of necessitous love: fragrant and furtive dream. It was the month of June. And the ripe fruit the peaches, grapes were like unexpected murmurs, stifled and blind. We did not see. We could not. We invented mist, but it clung to us like a dry rind. O mastery of love! Violent gentle ache,

in the breast, the hands : at the time of dawn

and rain ; of heat and cold.

343 EFRAIN HUERTA

Literalmente perdemos contacto con el suelo; vamos al infinlto apoyados en nuestra propla sangre. Olvidamos los rios y el silencio. Gritamos por la noche y las voces del viento se recogen en un puro rencor de ojos desorbltados. lucha cuanta colera I Que destine, que y reprimida! Anslas desinenuzadas; dolor de brazos muertos. Imperioso dominio desconocido para los corazones y los labios, Manos que se alargaron oprlmidas por ei alba de falelo. Miisculos negros como signo de misterio en la vida.

Se derrama en el mundo el sentido amoroso y la pledad parece agonizante pajaro con las alas cortadas. Sentimos on Insomnio gozosamente prolongado en una noche desconocida para los ninos y los ancianos. Poderosa tlbleza en el amor.

Y poderosa tamblen esa apacible castidad sangrienta y horrible en que naufragan los futuros suicidas.

Agotador murmullo de pantano y de nleve, seca desesperanza en los raldos del alba.

S44 EFRAIN HUERTA

We literally lose contact with the ground; we pass to the infinite buoyed up by our own blood. We forget the rivers and silence. We scream in the night and the voices of wind gather in a pure hatred of wild staring eyes.

What destiny ! what struggle ! what controlled rage ! Crumbling worries; pain of dead arms.

Imperious dominion foreign to hearts and lips. Stretched-out hands heavy with the dawn of ice. Black muscles, symbols of wretchedness in life.

The amorous sense floods through the world and mercy is an agonized wing-cropped bird. We are aware of a sleeplessness luxuriously prolonged in a night unknown to children and to the old. Powerful indifference in love. And powerful too that mild and bloody and horrible chastity in which are wrecked the suicides to come.

Exhausting murmur of marsh and snow? dry despair in the sounds of dawn. D.F.

345 CARLOS PELLICER

te conozco y ya me dlgo : I IMunca sabra que su persona exalta todo lo que hay en mi de sangre y fuego ?

J Como si fuese mncho esperar linos dias I muchos^ pocos ? porque toda esperanza parece mar del Sur, profunda, larga! Y porque siempre somos frutos de la impaciencia bosque todos.

Apenas te conozco y ya arrase cludades nubes y paisajes viajes y atonito, descubro de repente, que dentro estoy de la piedra presente y que en cielo aun no hay un celaje.

Como seran estas palabras ? nuevas, cnando ya junto a ti, salgan volando y en el acento de tus manos vea el limite Inefable del espacio.

LA mesa es irnponente COHQO un monumento a los heroes de cualquler naclonalidad. Reverenclo al pescado, brillante caballero medloevaL

34.6 CARLOS PELLICER

know you, and already I say to myself: Will she never understand how her person exalts all that there is in me of blood and fire ?

As though it were much to wait a few days many ? few ? since all hope seems a southern sea, deep^ long! And since we are always fruits o impatience all forest.

I hardly know you and I have already demolished cities clouds and landscapes journeys and amazed, I discover suddenly that I ana within the actual stone and that in the sky there are still no clouds. How will these words be, new* that now5 when I am close to you, go flying forth and show me in the accent of your hands the ineffable limit of space. H. R. H.

THE table is imposing like a monument to the heroes of any land. I revere the fish* gleaming mediaeval knight. 347 CARLOS PELLICER

Amo ai cervatillo, tan fino que ha muerto solamente de estar. Sonrio a la naranja casi mondada. Me entristece la torta acabada de violar. Y frutas deslumbrantes dignas de corbatas propias a un garden-party tropical, Granadas delirantes. Manzanas virgenes,

holandesas naturalmente , y van las miradas como rayos X3 penetrantcs ? inexorables, en paladeo augural que hace brillar los lablos, y acidular los dientes con un cierto apogee magnffico y animal. Y la divina poesia,

como en las bodas de Cana5 hechiza el agua y el vino vibra en una larga copa de cristal.

el avion, la orquesta panoramica de Rio de Janeiro se escucha en mi corazon. Desde la cumbre del Corcovado hasta las olas de Copacabana ? la dicha es una simple distancia que ha pasado borrando fechas proximas con sus nianos plateadas. Atare mi existencia sideral a la divina roca del Pao de Assucar que ve nacer la aurora antes que el agua mar. El mar de Rio Janeiro es una antigua barcarola que esta aprendiendo la ola levc de mi pensamiento. Guanabara su nombre* Guanabara^

34B CARLOS PELLICER

I adore the small roast deer5 so delicate that It died simply from existing. I smile at the orange, nearly peeled. I am saddened by the freshly ravished cake. And the dazzling fruits, fit for badges to be worn at tropical garden-parties. Raving pomegranates. Virgin apples Dutch, naturally and my eyes like X-rays, piercing, relentless. In an auspicious relishing that makes the lips glisten and the teeth acid with a sure magnificent animal culmination. And divine Poetry, as at the marriage feast of Cana, casts a spell on the water: and wine shimmers in a tall crystal goblet. D.F.

TIME

FROM the plane, the panoramic orchestra of Rio de Janeiro sounds in my heart. From the crest of Corcovado to the waves of Copacabana happiness is a simple distance that has passed blurring the nearest dates with its silvery hands* 111 bind my starry existence to the divine rock of Pao de A^ucar which sees the bursting dawn sooner than the ocean waters. The sea of Rio Janeiro is an old-time barcarolle being learnt by the gentle wave of my thought

Guanabara Its name. Guanabara?

349 CARLOS PELLICER como una estrella que se alargara sobre el ritmo de un momento. Ciudad naval, tus avenidas de orohidrograficos prodigies anclan mis ojos en un aire de eternidad sin abismos. To mar y tu montafia un pufiadito de Andes y mil litres de Atlantico pasan bajo las alas del avion, como sintesis del Continente amado.

Las grandes rocas estan de oro5 las montanas en verde y morado. El agua se mueve en semitono. La ciudad es un libro deshojado. El aire esta en soprano ligero. La escuadra va a salir a pescar. Un looping the loop* hace pedazos el regreso y hace estallar la ciudad.

350 CARLOS PELLICER like a star stretching out above the rhythm of a moment.

Naval city, your avenues of orohydrographic marvels anchor my eyes in an air of depthless eternity. Your sea and your mountain a tiny handful of Andes and a thousand litres of Atlantic - pass beneath the wings of my plane like a synthesis of the beloved Continent. The mighty rocks are golden, the mountains green and purple. The water stirs in a semitone.

The town is a leaf-stripped book. The air, a soprano trilling . The fleet is putting out to fish, A loop-the-loop shatters our return and sends the city exploding, D.F.

35 * CARLOS OQUENDO DE AMAT

POEM.A DEL

TUTE miedo y me regrese de la locum

Tuve miedo de ser una raeda un color unpaso

PORQUE MIS OJOS ERAN N1NOS y mi corazon un boton mas de mi camisa de fuerza

Pero hoy que mis ojos visten pantalones largos vco a la calk que esta mendiga de pasos

POEM.A SUtOKBALiSTA EL ELEGANTE Y DEL CAJVT

Los ELEFANTES ortopedicos al comienzo se volveran manzanas constantemente Porque los aviadores aman las ciudades encendidas como flores Musica entretejida en los abrigos de mvierno Tu boca surtidor de adcmanes ascendentes Palmeras calidas tu alrededor de palabra itinerarlos de viajes faciles

Tomame como las vioietas abiertas al sol.

352 CARLOS OQUENDO DE AMAT

POEM

1 WAS afraid and I came back from madness

I was afraid of being a wheel a colour

a footstep

BECAUSE MY EYES WERE CHILDREN and my heart one button more on

my straitjacket

But today since my eyes wear long trousers I look out at the street which goes begging for footsteps H.R.H.

SiJIOtKAUST PUJEff 0F TME EHJEPHANT AM SQ2VG

THE orthopedic elephants at the beginning will constantly turn into apples Because aviators love cities aflame like flowers Music woven into winter overcoats

Your mouth purveyor of ascending gestures Hot palmtrees around your word itineraries of easy voyages Take me like violets opened to the sun. H.R.H. 353 CARLOS OQUENDO DE AMAT

1 Y IA a Jose Maria Eguren claro y senclllo

Voz DE angel rosa recien cortada piel de rosa un angel mirando el mar crece el brazo de una rosa por eso una estrella nlna llora ya encontre to flor aycr mlrabas denaaslado el parque el nlno cree que la cebra es un animal la cebra es un jabon vegetal y la rosa es un boton de nacar o una golondrina pintada en el mar el angel solo

Tu noinbre viene lento como las muslcas kumlldes y de tus manos vuelan palomas blancas

Mi recuerdo te viste siempre de bianco como un recreo de niiios que los hombres mkan desde aqui distante

Un cielo muere en tus brazos y otro nace en tu ternura A tu lado el cariiio se abre como una flor cuando pienso

Entre ti y el horlzonte mi palabra esta primitiva como la lluvia o como los himnos

Porque ante ti callan las rosas y la cancion CARLOS OQUENDO DE AMAT

AZVGEJL

To Jose Maria Eguren clear and simple

ANGEL'S voice rose recently cut rosy skin an angel looking at the sea the arm of a rose grows therefore a little girl star weeps I found your blossom yesterday you were looking too much at the park the child thinks the zebra is an animal the zebra is a vegetable soap and the rose is a pearl button or a swallow painted on the sea the angel alone H, K ff.

MOTMJ3K

YOUR name comes slowly like modest music

and from your hands fly white doves

My memory always dresses you in white like a children's game which the men here watch from a distance

A heaven dies in your arms and another is born in your tenderness At your side affection opens like a lower when I am thinking

Between you and the horizon my word is primitive like rain or like hymns

Since in your presence roses and song are silent H. R. H.

355 BERNARDO ORTIZ DE MONTELLANO

cier Una mascara de cloroformo,, verde y olorosa a y cae so&re mi cuerpo angustiado,, horizontal, sabre la mesa de opera- ciones erizada de signos . . . Grito. Veo mis gritos que no se los se oven, que no oigo f que se alejan y pierden. Ultima imagen mi boca . . . Angustia y soledad. El cuerpo vive. ^Alrna? ^Cuerpo? . . . Lo ultimo que se pierde es el oido. Una uoz nos lleva y una uoz la misma nos trae desde muy le/QSy desd& otro tunel maternal, en ascenso del fantasma a la carne y del silcncio al rumor. (Apuntes despues de la anestesla"*

y Au fond de l inconnu pour trouper du nouueau. CH. BAUDELAIRE

DEL sonido a la piedra y de la voz al sueno en la postura eterna del dormido sobre marmol de clrlos y cuchilios ofensa a la raiz del arbol de la sangre concentrado ml cuerpo vivo, mio, mi concha de armadillo trlangulo de color sentido y movimiento contorno de mi mundo que me adhiere y me forma y me conduce del sonido a la voz y de la voz al suefio.

Batas blancas y manos como encias Pasos leves de goma de ratones Luz hendida, amarilla, luz cjue hiere bisturf del mas hondo hueco de sombra oculta

Luz de paredes blancas, anemica? de marmol Nidos del algodon para lo verde y negro de la vida y la nmerte

356 BERNARDO ORTIZ DE MONTELLANO

DREAM

A chloroform, mask, green and redolent of ethert falls over my anguished body, horizontal upon the operating-table bristling with signs . . . / cry out. I see my cries that cannot be heard, my cries that I do not hear, that fade away and are lost. Last image my mouth . . . Anguish and solitude.

The body Hues on. Soul? Body? . . . The last thing to go is it hearing. A voice takes us with 9 and a voice the same one carries us back from very far away, from some other ma-

ternal tunnely in an ascent from phantom to flesh and from silence to sound. (Notes after anaesthesia)

Au fond de Vinconnu pour trouuer du nouveau. CH. BAUBELAIKE

FROM sound to stone and from the voice to the dream

in the eternal posture of the sleeper upon marble laden with tapers and knives those offenders to the root of the tree of the blood concentrated my living body, mine, my armadillo shell my triangle of sentient colour and movement contours of my world that cling to me, and form me and lead me from the sound to the voice and from the voice to the dream.

White smocks and hands like gums Mouse-patterings of rubber soles Piercing yellow ligh^ sharp wounding light scalpel from the deepest hollow of hidden shadow Light from white walls, anemic light, marble walls Cotton nests for the green and the black of life and of death

357 BERNARDO ORTIZ DE MONTELLANO

Marmoles y aluminios que no empafia ei reflejo ni el aliento ni el alba de linos 030$ de nifio Luz de alia de la llama amarillenta para el aire del eter mas fino de los clelos Nicies del algodon para las alas de los peces del alcanfor y el yodo liquldos mensajeros de la muertc. Oh j 5 Saturno., escafandra de slglos en mi siglo, descenderas conmigo entre los brazos a un mundo de sigilos

Y detras de la muerte centinelas ojos de dos en dos vivos, cautivos.

Soy el ultimo testlgo de mi cuerpo

los Veo rostros^ la sabana5 los cucfalllos^ las voces y el calor de mi sangre que enrojece los bordes y el olor de mi aliento tan alegre y tan mio !

Soy el ultimo testigo de mi cuerpo

Slento que siento lo frio del marmol y lo verde y lo negro de mi pensamiento.

Soy el ultimo testigo de mi cuerpo

Postigo de sangre y llamas Que bajo la piel respira Equilibrio de las palmas

358 BERNARDO ORTIZ DE MONTELLANO

Marbles and aluminums whose reflection neither breath nor the dawn in a child's eyes can blur Light from beyond the yellow flame for the ether air, finest of all heaven's, Cotton nests for the fish-wings of camphor and iodine liquid messengers of death.

O Saturn diver of centuries in my century you will descend with me in your arms into a sealed world

And behind death standing sentinel pair upon pair of living eyes5 held captive.

I am the last witness to my body

I see the faces, the sheet, the knives, the voices and the warmth of my blood reddening the edges and the odour of my breath so joyous and so much mine !

I am the last witness to my body

I feel that I feel the cold marble and the green and the black of my thought*

I am the last witness to my body

Tiny door of blood and flame Beneath the flesh breathing Palms* balance

359 BERNARDO ORTIZ DE MONTELLANO

Que los vlentos equilibra Onda de otra mar salina Con la tlerra horlzontada Para paloma perdida Y entre latidos hallada

Vida que por mi vigila Ocuita detras del alma La que mi cuerpo equliibra Postlgo de sangre y llamas Mi nombre ml edad mi cuerpo Ese que fui le he olvidado Soy el alma que me tiice Y el cuerpo que me han quitado.

(minero de mis ojos y mi oido minero de mi cuerpo oscurecido buzo perdido entre sus proplas redes Jhoradando prislones y montaiias por el silencio a flor de mis entranas en donde se evapora lo sentido entre Iunas 7 calor, sangre y paredes desciendo verdinegro y aturdido) Ni vivo ni muerto solo solo El alma que me hice no la encuentro Sin sentidos, despierto

Con mi sangre? dormido Vivo y muerto Perdido para mi pero para los otros hallado, junto, cerca., convivido, con pulso, sangre, coraz6n, ardiendo. . . .

Esqueleto de nieve y de silencio de sombra recogida en su vislumbre BERNARDO ORTIZ DE MONTELLANO

That balances the winds Wave from another saline sea Brought down to earth's level Lost to the dove And found among pulsations

Life that for me keeps vigil Hidden behind the soul Which my body balances Tiny door to the blood and flame My name my age my body The one that I was I have forgotten I am the soul that I made And the body they have taken from me.

(miner into my eyes and ears miner into my darkened body diver lost among his own snares piercing prisons and mountains through the silence on the surface of my entrails where what is felt evaporates among the moons^ warmth, blood, and waits bewildered and dark-green I burrow)

Neither alive nor dead only alone I can not find the soul I made Bereft of senses^ awake,

And with my blood? asleep Alive and dead Lost to myself but for others found, united, near, lived with, having pulse,, blood, heart* burning *

Skeleton of snow and silence of shadow retreating into its half light BERNARDO ORTIZ DE MONTELLANO

desnudo en el dintel de los desiertos, forma distinta de belleza rara que la voz de mi estatua no pudo asir desde su estrecha plaza, esparce su corona de equilibrios en mi silencio enjuto y envidiable mas alia de la boca de los pinos que al Tiempo alternan su minuto de aire.

Para un Dios sin latidos Dios de sueno abrcvia mi silencio en su silencio donde crece la luna donde agoniza el pajaro donde el Espacio ignora su pie leve.

Para que el arbol goce de su verde La raiz nace oculta y amarilla Y de savia la sangre se acuchilla Y de aroma la fruta su piel muerde

Para que el arbol goce de su verde.

Para que el Jiombre nutra su ceniza Guarda calor en la invalida mano Sollozo mutilado en la sonrisa Y la caricia verde del gusano

Para que el hombre nutra su ceniza,

Para que el alma su cordaje mida Deslstida del cuerpo y de la feclia Impersonal como la muerte acecEa La memoria dispersa de su vida

Para que el alma su cordaje mida. BERNARDO ORTIZ DE MONTELLANO naked on the threshold o the deserts a distinct form of rare beauty which the voice of my statue could not seize from its constricted square^ *~* it scatters its crown of balances over my stripped and enviable silence on yonder side of the mouth of the pine trees which alternate in Time their moment of air.

For a God without throbbings God of dreams it shortens nay silence in its silence where the moon grows where the bird agonizes where Space knows nothing of its light footfall.

That the tree may enjoy its green The root is born hidden and yellow The blood is slashed from the sap And the fruit bites its fragrant skin

That the tree may enjoy its green.

That man may give food to his ashes He keeps his helpless hand warm His sob mutilated by smiling And the green caress of the worm

That man may give food to his ashes.

That the soul may measure its rigging Severed from the flesh and from time Selfless as death it awaits The dispersed memory of its life

That the soul may measure its rigging. 3% BERNARDO ORTIZ DE MONTELLANO

Para que el sueno con sus pies descubra La moracla precisa de la muerte TIene el ojo conciencla de lo Inerte Y la voz : el silencio y la penumbra

Para que el suefio con sus pies descubra La morada precisa de la muerte.

El que goza su cuerpo y su sonrisa El que pesa la rosa El que se bafia en purpuras de sangre Espesa como marmol sin caricia El que vive a la sombra deshojada Del aire poco que respira y mancha El verde por la orina verdenado El plateado en ceniza Que horada Olvida Hiere Mientras goza el rescoldo de la muerte El que de la mujer nada recibe Y al hombre no da nada El que asoma a los ojos sin cruzarlos El partido por dos y en dos mitades Iguales repartido El sin olor El Hombre Solo por la palabra rediuiido. alucida veloz clara cenuda desnuda sofocada misteriosa xnenuda pura impura deseada libre precisa fragil despojada sola solemne solitaria y alma

364. BERNARDO ORTIZ DE MONTELLANO

That die feet of the dream may discover The precise dwelling of death Its eye Is aware of the lifeless. And its voice: of silence and shade

That the feet of the dream may discover The precise dwelling of death.

He who delights in his body and his smile Who weighs the rose Who bathes himself in purpling blood Dense as caressless marble Who, shorn of his leaves,, lives in the shadow Breathing and staining an ak grown small The green one greened by urine The silver one in ashes Who pierces Forgets Wounds While he delights in the embers of death Who receives nothing from woman And gives nothing to man Who looks from his eyes without crossing their portal Sundered in half and in equal parts Divided The odourless one The Man Redeemed by the word alone. a-lucid swift clear frowning naked smothered mysterious minute pure impure desired free precise fragile despoiled alone solemn solitary and soul BERNARDO ORTIZ DE MONTELLANO

aiucida veloz calida oscura orgoliosa dollda apasionada avida timida arrojada sobria sensible fina libra leve dueiia multiforma constante sangre sangra

Debe ser debil rama la que a tu voz responde, imprecise el dominlo del fantasma y la mucrte, llano el cesped de lirios y delirios por donde corra libra lamento el de la mente Debe ser fango el frfo de las horas despnes cuando se apagtie el fuego de la sangre y el postigo y la llama, liorrendo el cataclismo de la separation de lo que unido fue vida y fuc veneno, para que desde el marmot olvido de mi cuerpo tu YQZ de viento y sombra de medida medida de calores delgados me atralga y me deslice y me conduzca otra vez al torrente de la vida Debe ser debil rama mi voluntad, fa-iimo la sensitiva de mi mano y mi preseiicia aislada y amarilla cuando tu voz ariadiia, voz de viento y de sombra caracol de palabras, es mi ultimo recuerdo y mi primer llamada apenas balbuceo en forma de palabra que de nuevo me arranca a las entranas y me nace del sueno.

Luz que del sueno torna forma clara, luz, presencia, color y moviiaiento,

366 BERNARDO ORTIZ DE MONTELLAKC a-lucid swift warm obscure proud aching passionate avk! timid dashing sombre sensitive fine free light mistress multiform constant blood bleeds

The branch must be weak that answers your voice, blurred the realm of the phantasm and of death, flat the turf of lilies and delirium where the mind's lament may run free It must be mire, that chill of the hours a ter, extinguished the fire of the blood and the tiny door and the flame, the of the disunion of united horrendous cataclysm what, 3 was life and was poison, so that from the marble oblivion of my body your voice of wind and shadow of measured measure of thin warmth should draw me and gHde me and lead me back to the torrent of life It must be a weak branch, my will, and smoke the sensitive-plant of my hand, and my presence shut away and yellow when your ariadne voice, voice of wind and shadow shell of words, is my last remembrance and my first summons barely a lisp shaped like a word which tears me again from my body's depth born out of the dream.

Light returning from dream clear shape, light, presence, colour and movement,

367 BERNARDO ORTIZ DE MONTELLANO

sin peso y sin pesar^ desenlutada que a las cosas devuelve su aislamlento

Luz que del sueno vuelve forma viva, inslstente mirar de la mirada

absorta, nueva? dia? y por primera vez iiuminada

Ake corredor Forma desnuda en su volumen fresco y en su modo de ser casi de fruta Aire que muerdo a gritos y cuchillos por la primera vez como en ahogado que a la orilla del aire sabe que respirar es verbo, gracla y pajaro.

Dilufdo en alegria encuentro justo el mundo que se toca se mira y me compara^ el multiforme y unlco el mundo de mis plernas y mis brazos dlscipulos del ojo maestro de distancias, el mundo colmenero de voluntad y llamas, calles, cludades, hombres, amenazas^ imagenes, prislones, rios, ventanas, triangulo de colores que me devuelve el alma.

Voz que del sueno vuelve^ adonde la carlcia no penetra desciende, alegra, el aire, el sol^ la sangre . . .

y me desplerta.

368 BERNARDO ORTIZ DE MONTELLANO

-weightless and unwcighing, In mourning no longer, restoring their aloneness to things

Light returning from dream living shape3 insistent gazing of the gaze absorbedj new, day, and for the first time lighted

Racing air Shape naked In its fresh volume and Its way of being almost fruitlike Air that I bite with screams and knives for the first time like a drowned man on the shore of the air who knows that breathing Is word, grace and bird,

Dissolved In joy I find that It Is just, this world that Is felt,

that is seen and that weighs me5 multiform and unique the world of my legs and my arms the eye's disciples, that master of distances,

the beehive world of will and flame 5 streets, cities, men, threats. Images^ prisons, rivers, windows,, coloured triangle that gives me back my soul.

The voice returning from dream^ where the caress does not reach,

. . descends* rejoices, air, sun? blood .

and wakes me.

T. J,. s D, D. W, 9 D. F. 369 VICENTE HUIDOBRO

APPORTEZ des jeux Des petltes distractions pour Pinfini Qui bailie dans le regard de Dieu

Et pile et face et jour et nuit

Le ciel traverse lent lent traine par des gros nuages

Irons-nous surveiller les antipodes Le ciel commence a avoir de Page Et Pexperience dit II fant se soulager en pluie On chercher d'autres amusements

Mais le jour se tourne de Pautre cote Et c'est Pobscurite

Laissons les parachutes a mi-chemin Les histoires se dispersent tons les soirs Quand pousse la rose de Paurevoir

SWJES WIN JPJBU

JE suis un peu lune et commis voyageur J'ai la specialite de trouver les heures Qui ont perdu leur montre 37o VICENTE HUIDOBRO

*mmiNG GAMES*

BRING games Little distractions for the infinite Which yawns in the face of God

Both heads and tails both day and night

The sky crosses slowly slowly drawn by heavy clouds

Shall we go survey the ends of the earth The sky is beginning to come of age And experience tells us We must seek solace in rain Or look for other amusements

But the day turns over on its other side And it is darkness

Let us leave the parachutes half way Stories scatter every night When grows the rose of solong J.S.

I AM

I AM partly moon and partly traveling salesman My specialty is finding hours Which have lost their watches

37* VICENTE HUIDOBRO

Croyez-moi bien Sous mon ceil d'amiral tout se rencontre Et ce n'est pas plus rare que ies cas d'enfants Perdos dans Ies magaslns

II y a des heures qui se nolent I! y en a d'autres mangees par Ies cannibales Je connais un oiseau qui Ies boit On peut Ies faire aussi melodies commerciales

Mais dans Ies bals atlantiques ainsi deguisees C*est tres difficile de Ies distinguer

C&NNWJ JLA

Tu N'AS jamais connu 1'arbre de la tendresse d'oii j'extrais mon essence II pousse a chaque etage sans preference Au milieu d\ine discussion de pianos II est aussi joli que soixante metres d'eau.

Les yeux de circonstance Regardent le temps troue A coups de pistolet

Mais s'il n*y a pas d'oreille Nbs yeux pourtant sont des bouteilles Videes a chaque regard La nuit gardons Ies yeux dans mon hangar

Maiadie d*instrument ecoutez son conseil L'archet glisse glisse sur Ies escaliers du sommeil Maiadie melodic VICENTE HUIDOBRO

Believe me Under my admiral's eye everything meets And this is no more rare than the cases of children Lost in department stores

There are some hours which drown There are others eaten by cannibals I know a bird which drinks them You can also make them into commercial melodies

But disguised thus at the Atlantic balls It is very difficult to single them out 7.5.

YOU MAwm NEvmm KNOWN y OF TEWI>JUVJEKSS * . *

You have never known the tree of tenderness whence I extract my essence It grows on any floor without preference In the midst of a discussion of pianos It is as pretty as a sixty-yard expanse of water.

The eyes of circumstance Are looking at time riddled By pistol shots

But if there is no ear Nevertheless our eyes are bottles Emptied at each glance At night let us keep our eyes in my shed

Instrumental malady listen to its counsel The bow glides glides over the stairs of sleep Malady melody

373 VICENTE HUIDOBRO

Cherche bien sous les chaises Cherche blen sous ies poxits II y a des morceaux d'ame scies par mon violon

CJBLUtHANT9

NOTE charmant quelle heure est-il DIs-moi la consistance des reveries Interchangeables en chaos civil

Le calme est plein de laines de mouton Et je ne sals rien

Dans les soufifrances en marche snr la vie Les linges sechent jour et niait Snr la corde de lliorizon (Cela se passe tres loin)

Noye charmant La belle musique des equinoxes entraine les amants Selon la loi des gravitations Et detend les murs du salon

Noye charmant Si tu voyais maintenant Les vagues apprivoisees Venir avec des reverences a nos pieds

Noye charmant Que t*a dit la Sainte VIerge Garde-telle encore la rose des vents Entre ses doigts diaphanes Que dlscutent les autres saints Dans leur langage d'aeroplane 374 VICENTE HUIDOBRO

Look well under the dfatairs Look well under the bridges There are bits of soul sawn away by my violin 7.5.

'BEWITCHI1VG DROHWED*

BEWITCHING drowned what time is it Tell me the consistency of reveries Which can be changed into civil chaos

Calmness is full of sheep's wool And I know nothing

In the sufferings pacing over life Clothes are drying day and night On the horizon's line (This Is happening very far away)

Bewitching drowned The beautiful music of the equinoxes gathers in lovers By the law of gravitation And strips the walls of the salon

Bewitching drowned If you were to see now The gentled waves Coining with little bows to our feet

Bewitching drowned What did the Holy Virgin tell you "Docs she still hold the rose of the winds In her diaphanous fingers What are the^ other saints discussing In their airplane language J.s. 375 VICENTE HUIDOBRO

QUE el verso sea corno una Have quc abra mil puertas. Una hoja cae; algo pasa volando; cuaoto miren los ojos creado sea, y el alma del oyente quede tembiando.

Inventa mundos nuevos y cuida tu palabra ; el adjetivo, cuando no da vida, mata.

Estamos en el ciclo de los nervios. El muscuio cuelga como recuerdo, en los museos; mas no por eso tenemos menos fuerza: el vigor verdadero reside en la cabeza*

? I Por que cantais la rosa3 oh^ poetas fHacedla florecer en el poem a!

Solo para nosotros vlven todas las cosas bajo el sol.

El poeta es un pequefio

vlento pasea a la luna Y las banderas caen sobre el mar Golpea golpea La lona abre la puerta Entrad senoras eotrad scnorcs Las velas caen sobre el mar Y la montafia cargada de cadenas Espera aqui abajo el juicio final 376 VICENTE HUIDOBRO

of

LET verse be as a key that opens a thousand doors. A leaf falls; something passes flying; let all that the eyes see become created, and let the soul of the hearer stand trembling.

Discover worlds over word new and keep watch your ; when an adjective does not strengthen^ It destroys.

We are in the cycle of nerves. Our brawn hangs like a memory. In museums; but not for that are we less strong: the true vigour abides In the head.

Poets : why do you sing of the rose ? Make It bloom In your poem !

For us alone live all things under the sun.

The poet is a little God. M. B. D.

THE wind takes the moon riding And the flags fall upon the sea Knock knock The moon opens the door

Come in ladles come in gentlemen The sails fall upon the sea And the mountain laden with chains Awaits the last judgment here below

377 VICENTE HUIDOBRO

El viento pasea al ojo Y los cabellos caen sobre el mar Golpea golpea Ei ojo abre la puerta

Entrad senoras entrad senores Las voces caen sobre el mar Hay tin insecto milenario Que frota sus nervlos en la vida

El viento pasea al corazon Las lagrimas caen sobre el mar Golpea golpea El corazon abre la puerta

Entrad senoras entrad senores Los dedos caen sobre el mar El mar cae en el vacio EI vacio cae en el tiempo Y yo cazo conejos blancos En la palma de tu mano

NATUKAiJEZA WWWA.

EL deja al acordeon el fin del raundo Paga con la Huvia la ultima cancion Alii donde las voces se juntan nace un enorme cedro Mas confortable que el cielo

Una golondrina me dice papa Una anemona me dice mama

Azul azul alii y en la boca del lobo Azul Senor Cielo que se aleja Que dice listed Hacla donde ira 378 VICENTE HUIDOBRO

The wind takes the eye riding And the tresses fall upon the sea Knock knock The eye opens the door

Come in ladies come in gentlemen The voices fall upon the sea There is a millenial insect That is rubbing its nerves in life

The wind takes the heart riding The tears fall upon the sea Knock knock The heart opens the door

Come in ladies come in gentlemen The fingers fall upon the sea The sea falls into emptiness The emptiness falls into time And I am hunting white rabbits In the palm of your hand JD. D. W.

W&TXJKE WMVM

To the accordion he leaves the end of the world Pays with the rain for the last song There where the voices join a huge cedar is born More soothing than the sky

A swallow says Papa to me An anemone says Mamma to me

Blue blue there and in the wolfs mouth Blue Mr Sky who moves away What*s that you say Where will he head for VICENTE HUIDOBRO

Ah el heraioso brazo azul azol Dad el brazo a la Senora Nubc Si tencis miedo del lobo El lobo de la boca azul azul

Del diente largo largo Para devorar a la abuela naturaleza

Senor Cielo rasque su golondrina Senora Nube apague sus anemonas

Las voces se juntan sobre el pajaro Mas grande que el arbol de la creation Mas hermoso que una corrlente de alre cntrc dos astros

ELLA

ELLA daba dos pasos hacia delante Daba dos pasos hacia atras El primer paso decia buenos dias sefior El segundo paso decia buenos dias senora Y ios otros decian como esta la famUia Hoy es un dia hermoso como una paloma en el cielo

Ella llevaba una camisa ardiente

Ella tenia ojos de adormecedora de mares Ella habia escondido un sueno en un armario oscuro Ella habia encontrado un muerto en medio de su cabeza

Cuando ella llegaba dejaba una parte mas hermosa muy lejos Cuando ella se iba algo se formaba en el horizonte para esperarla Sus miradas estaban heridas y sangraban sobre la colina Tenfa Ios senos abiertos y cantaba las tinieblas de su edad Era hermosa como un cielo bajo una paloma

380 VICENTE HUIDOBRO

Ah the lovely blue blue arm Give your arm to Mrs Cloud If you are afraid of the wolf The wolf with the blue blue mouth With the long long tooth To eat up Grandmother Nature

Mr Sky scratch out your swallows Mrs Cloud extinguish your anemones

The voices join above the bird Greater than the tree of Creation Lovelier than a current of air between two stars D.F.

SHE stepped two paces forward And two paces back The first step said good morning sir The second step said good morning ma'am And the others said how is your family Today is as lovely a day as a dove in the sky

She was wearing a burning shirt Her eyes were sea-lulling She had hidden a dream in a dark closet She had met a dead man in the middle of her head When she arrived she would leave a lovelier part far away When she left something would take shape to wait for her on the horizon bled the hill Her glances were wounded and upon Her breasts were wide and she sang the dusks of her age She was lovely as a sky beneath a dove

381 VICENTE HUIDOBRO

Tenia una boca de acero Y una bandcra mortal dibujada entre los labios Reia como el mar que siente carbones en su vientre Como el mar cuando ia luna se mira ahogarse Como el mar que ha mordido todas las playas El mar que desborda y cae en el vacio en los tiempos de abundancla Cuando las estrellas arnillan sobre nuestras cabezas Antes que el vlento norte abra sus ojos Era hermosa en sus horizontes de huesos Con su camisa ardiente y sus miradas de arbol fatigado Como el clelo a caballo sobre las palomas VICENTE HUIDOBRO

Her month was steel

And a deathbound banner was traced between her lips She would laugh like the sea that feels coals In Its belly Like the sea when the moon watches Itself drown Like the sea that has bitten at all the beaches

The sea overflowing and falling Into the void In times of abundance When the stars coo above our heads Before the north wind opens Its eyes She was lovely in her horizons of bones With her burning shirt and her weary tree eyes Like the sky on horseback above the doves D.F.

383 GONZALO ESCUDERO

JL0S

LA niebla me ha vendado los ojos. Estoy ciego. Tiembla el pinar coino una cupula sobre ml cabeza rebelde. La noche suena como un organo. Mis manos Incandescen. He apretado los troncos de los arboles. Estrangule los torsos de las mujeres y rompi la tierra, como un vientre.

i Hoy, hoy!

sorbo de DIos I i Tmenoj Mis brazos se agigantan como trombas oceankas. Y estoy solo ante mi eternldad^ como los dolmenes. Nadie sabra despues quien soplo los ciclones, qulen abrlo los ablsnios como fauces. [Nadle! Horacanes, grltad,, que estoy solo.

niebla ha vendado los ! La me ojos. j Estoy ciego

SOBRE la noche de ebano, tlendo mis manos barbaras para buscar a DIos . . * Y enarbolo en mis mastlles el silencio. Y conduzco huracanes aligeros. Y hasta muerdo la ruta de tus dos senos ntibiles para encontrar a DIos en sus pezones turgldos xnaravillosamente convertido en miel limpida. Y hasta qukro palparle en la carlcla timlda de los ninos que penden como manzanas prodigas

384 GONZALO ESCUDERO

TME

THE fog has bandaged my eyes. 1 am blinded. The pine grove trembles like a dome above my rebel head. Night has an organ sound. My hands burst into flame. I have clutched the trunks of the trees. I strangled the torsos of women and broke the earth wide, like a belly,

Today ! Today ! Thunder, draught of God! My arms grow huge, like waterspouts at sea. And I am alone

before my eternity, like the dolmens. Afterwards, no one will know who puffed up the cyclones, who opened the abysses like jaws. No one!- Hurricanes, shout! For I am alone. The fog has bandaged my eyes. I am blinded! D.F.

I REACH out with my barbaric hands above the ebony night in search of God . . . And at my mast-heads I break out silence. And I guide wing-borne hurricanes. And I even bite the fruit of your two nubile breasts

to finds in their swelling nipples, God marvelously transformed into clear honey. I would touch him even in the timid caress of children hanging like lavish apples

385 GGNZALO ESCUDERO del arbol de las madres, Y hasta en la llama palida del alcohol de tu mirada muerta. Y hasta en la lampara que me hizo conocer tus dos flancos de nayade aquella nochebuena de ios primeros pampanos. Y hasta en la madrugada de linos arcangeiicos de tu rnuerte qulsiera buscarle, y en el tremolo de una tarde ski fin con arcoiris dlafanos y corderos pascuales de hatos inverosimiles y golondrinas de oro y campaniles de angelus. Y hasta en las nubes blandas de un otoiio translucido que nos haga llorar sin saber como , . . Cespedes de berilo impalpable han caido de un alamo. Mil grillos tkitinean unisonos sus crotalos e ilumina su doble candela una luciernaga*

Estoy tranquilo. Floto en algodones hiimedos, mientras Dios se desmaya dulcemente en mis parpados. zoo

SOL, inventario del color.

Los caballos han aprendido a leer el mundo en las frutas de vidrio de sus ojos. Colonia nudista de las madreporas. Gruas de chocolate de las jirafas. Claude Debussy es apenas la aguja de sonido de las ratas. Convoyes electricos de los boas constrictores. Pantalones marineros de Ios elefantes. Stravinsky es la pubertad de Ios gatos en Ios techos de luna llena.

Metalurgia de Ios proyectiles de Ios pajaros. GONZALO ESCUDERO upon their mother-trees. And even in the pale alcohol-flame of your dead gaze. And even in the lamp that revealed to me your twin naiad thighs on that Christinas Eve of the first new vines.

And even in the archangelical linen- dawn of your death I would seek him, and in the tremolo of an endless evening with transparent rainbows and paschal lambs of improbable locks and golden swallows and angelus bclltowcrs. Even in the soft clouds of a shining autumn that makes us weep, we do not know why . , . Lawns of impalpable beryl have dropped from a poplar. A thousand crickets are clinking in unison their tiny cymbals,

and a firefiy lights its double candle.

I am at pe^ace. I drift upon moist cotton, while God swoons sweetly upon my eyelids. P.F.

ZOO

SUN, inventory of colour.

The horses have learned to read the world

in the glass fruits of their eyes. Nudist colony of the white corals.

Chocolate derricks of the giraffes. Claude Debussy is barely the gramophone-needle of the rats. Electric trains of the boa constrictors.

Sailor pants of the elephants. Stravinsky, the puberty of tomcats on the roofs in the full moon.

Metallurgy of bird-projectiles. GONZALO ESCUDERO

Cremallera de cobre de la iguana.

I Que cordiilera se encabrita como los camellos ?

I Que transatlantlco enarbola los surtidores de las ballenas ? Geodesia, sablduria del caracoL La erudicion de Mars es el soviet de las hormigas. Los pingiiinos son los camisas negras del cielo. Carlos Chaplin se doctoro en el salto de los antilopes. Nadle resolvera la ecuacion algebralca de una serpiente X,

I Que nodriza britanica como el canguro donde Freud aprendio a balbucear la libido ?

Relojeria de las ostras.

I Que cortesana vistio en invlerno como los armifios ? Traje dominical de las cebras penitenciarias.

Las avestruces raudas son los automoviles de pluma, Arana titere de los andamios de cristaL

Y todoj para que el murcielago abra el paraguas de la noche.

388 GONZALO ESCUDERO

Copper cog-rack of the Iguana. What mountain range rears up like the camels ? What liner branches up such spoutings as the whales ? Geodesy, wisdom of the snail. The erudition of Marx is the soviet of the ants.

The penguins are the black-shirts of the sky. Charlie Chaplin took his doctorate in antelope-leaping. Nobody will solve the alebraic equation of a serpent X, What British wet nurse better than the kangaroo, where Freud learned to babble the libido ?

Clock-shop of the oysters. What fancy woman dresses in winter like the ermines r Sunday suit of the penitentiary zebras.

The swift ostriches are automobiles of feather. Spider, puppet of the crystal scaffolding.

And all this, that the bat may open the umbrella of night.

/*, era JOSE MIGUEL FERRER

NOCTVKNO DEL PECADO Y SU DELACt6N a Fernando Cabrices

ANTORCHAS golpean, al compas de tu cuerpo oscurecido,

las tinieblas del mundo . , .

Duele a mis ojos Mmedos la noche, como el cedro cortado. Camilla sobre plumas ml voz hacia tu sueno. Qniero saber en que inanantiai canta tu nombre de criatura deshabitada, cual el guijarro que resbala en el viento hacia mi sombra, cual la montaiia en que penetra el sendero que va hasta Dios . . .

No importa el desamparo del rio sin arboles que pregunta en los anocheceres: no estamos lejos del jardin aherrojado donde el musgo suele nacer y morir al plazo de tu huella. Solo miro tu cuerpo tendido entre la hierba y los balidosj me toca tu lamento desflorado con su corona de sarmientos amargos, mientras fluyen mandragoras de tus poros cerrados al pecado y al osculo.

Antes de que las torres lleguen para la bienvenida, antes de que rompa su cascara el sopor que nos liga, antes de ti ye de mi, antes de que los humillados escondan en los surcos sus lagrimas y los infantes besen la sal llorada en los mendrugos, antes de que el alba ponga su dedo en los capullos, quiero vendar a tus pulsos mi pulso y cegar la penumbra que llenas con tu cuerpo derramado . . .

390 JOSE MIGUEL FERRER

NOCTURNE OF SOT AWB ITS ACCUSATION

To Fernando Cabrices

TORCHES beat out, to your dark body's rhythm, the shadows of

the world . . .

Night wounds my moist eyes, like cut cedarwood. My voice walks upon feathers toward your dream* I must know In what fountain sings your unfrequented name,, know the pebble slipping through the wind toward my shadow*

and the mountain pierced by the path that leads to God . . *

What matters the forlornness of the treeless river asking in the dusk? We are not far from the garden held in chains where the moss Is born and dies beneath your tread, I look only at your body lying In the grass among bleating sheep, your ravaged lament touches me with Its crown of bitter vines, while mandrakes flow from your pores closed to sin and to kisses.

Before the towers come here for welcome^

before the heaviness that binds us breaks Its shell, before you and before me, hide their tears in the furrows before the humbled caj. ? and children kiss the salt of tear-drenched crusts,

its on the buds before dawn can lay finger s I would bind your pulse to my pulse, and blot out the penumbra that you will fill with your prodigal

body . . .

39* JOSE MIGUEL FERRER

Antorchas golpean, ai compas de tu cuerpo oscurecido,

las tinleblas del mundo . . .

Hacla nuestras soinbras caminan las esplgas de traje bianco y los escarabajos que saben dukes las canas que nos hieren.

RecobrandotCj en vilo, de las zarzas y las alondras, entre campanas ya vlene, grltando, el ave de las madrugadas : los fuera de penascos echan a andar5 como hombres, los ecos. ...

Siento que te desgaxras en los retofios entumecidos, gimen dukes candados en los dinteles de tu aparicion:

|y sube tu secreto por los flancos del mundo al contacto

de tu ultima primavera! . . .

392 JOSE MIGUEL

Torches beat out, to your dark body's rhythm, the shadows of

the world . * .

Toward our shadows move the whitcsuitcd grain spikes and the beetles tasting sugar in the cane that wounds us.

free thorns Iarks Snatching you from and 5 with ringing of bells now comes the shouting bird of daybreak : out of the great rocks the echoes start to move away like

men . . .

I feel that you withdraw from me into the swollen sprouts, soft padlocks groan on the threshold pf your presence:

and your secret ascends the Eanks of the world at the

touch of your last springtime ! R. 0'

3S XAVIER VILLAURRUTIA

NOCTUtWO EN tt&JSrJLA JLA

Si la mucrte hubiera venldo aqui, conmigo, a New Haven, escondida en un hueco de mi ropa en la maleta, en el bolsillo de uno de mis trajes, entre las paginas de un libro como la serial que ya no me recuerda nada; si mi muerte particular estuviera esperando fecha una ? un instante que solo ella conoce * para decirme: Aqui estoy. Te he seguido como la sombra que no es posible dejar asi nomas en casa; como un poco de aire calido e invisible mezclado al aire frio y duro que respiras ; como el recuerdo de lo que mas quieres;

como el olvido? si, como el olvido que has dejado caer sobre las cosas que no quisieras recordar ahora. Y es inutil que vuelvas la cabeza en mi busca: estoy fuera de ti y a un tiempo dentro. Nada es el mar que como un dios quisiste poner entre los dos; nada es la tierra que los hombres miden y por la_que matan y mueren; ni el sueno en que quisieras creer que vives sin mi, cuando yo misma lo dibujo y lo borro; "ni los dias que ctientas una wz y otra vez a todas horas, ni las horas que matas con orgullo sin pensar que renacen^fuera de ti. Nada son estas cosas ni los innumerables lazos que me tendiste,

394 XAVIER VILLAURRUTIA

IN wmicm

IF death had come here with me, to New Haven, hidden in a fold of my clothing in the suitcase, in the pocket of one of my suits^ between the pages of a book like a bookmark that no longer recalls anything to m if my own private death should be waiting for a date5 for a moment that only it knows, * to say to me: Here I am. I have followed you like the shadow that you can't just leave behind at home like this; like a bit of warm invisible air mixed with the cold hard air that you breathe; like the memory of what you love best; like the forgetfulness, yes^ the forgetfulness that you have allowed to fall over things that yon would rather not remember now. And it is useless to turn your head in search of me: I am outside you and at the same time within you. is like a tried That sea nothing that, god s you

to set between us two ; that earth is nothing^ that men measure, and for which they kill and die; nor your dream of wishing to believe you are alive without me, when I myself draw it and erase it; nor the days that you count over once and again at all hours^ nor the hours that you kill in your pride, not thinking that they are bom again outside you. These things are nothing, nothing the countless snares that yon set for me,

595 XAVIER VILLAURRUTIA ni las infantiles arguclas con que lias querido dejarme engaiiada., olvidada. Aqui estoy, no lo sientes? Abre los ojos; cierralos, si quicrcs.*

Y me pregunto ahora ? I si nadie entro en la pieza contigua, quien ccrro cauteiosamente la puerta? I Que mlsterlosa fuerza de gravedad hizo caer la hoja de papel que estaba en la mesa ? I POT que se Instala aqoi, de pronto^ y sin que yo la Invite, la voz de una mujer que habla en la calle ?

al la Y oprimlr pluma7 la algo^como sangre late y ckcula en elia5 y slento que las letras desiguales escrlbo a!iora que 3 mas pequeiias, mas tremulas, mas deblles,, ya no son de ml mano solamente.

SE diria que las calles fluyen dulcementc en la noche* Las luces no son tan vivas que logren desvelar el secreto, el secreto- que los hombres que van y vlenen conocen, porque todos estan en el secreto y nada se ganarfa con partirlo en mil pedazos si el es 5 por contrario, tan dulce guardarlo y compartirlo solo con la persona elegida.

Si cada uno dijera en un momento dado, en solo lo una palabra? que piensa, las cinco letras del DESEO formarian una enorme cicatriz luminosa, XAVIER VILLAURRUTIA nor the childish cunning with which you tried to leave me tricked, forgotten. Here I am. Can you not feel it ? shut if like/ Open your eyes ; thems you

And now I wonder: if no one came into the next room, who closed the door so cautiously ? What mysterious power of gravity made the piece of paper fall that was on the table ? Why do I find installed here, suddenly, without invitation, the voice of a woman talking in the street ?

And as I press on my pen,

something like blood pulses and circulates in it, and I feel that the uneven letters that I set down now smaller, more wavering, weaker are no longer cpming from my hand alone. D.F.

You would say that the streets flow sweetly in the night. Lights are not quick enough to reveal the secret, the secret known to the men who come and go, for they are all in the secret, and nothing were gained by dividing it in a thousand pieces if, on the contrary, it is so sweet to keep it to share alone with the chosen person.

If everyone should utter, at a given moment, in one word only, that which he is thinking, the six letters of DESIRE would form a huge shining scar.

397 XAVIER VILLAURRUTIA

una constelacion mas antigua, mas viva am que las otras. Y csa constelacion serfa como un ardlente sexo en el profundo cuerpo de la noche, o, mejor, como los Gemelos que por vez primera en la vlda se miraran de firente, a los ojos, y se abrazaran ya para siempre.

De pronto el no de la calle se puebla de sedlentos seres. Camlnaa, se detienen, prosiguen. Camblan miradas, atreven sonrisas.

Forman Imprevlstas parejas . . .

Hay recodos y bancos de sombra, orlllas de Indefinlbles formas profnndas y subltos huecos de luz que clega y puertas que ceden a la presion mas leve.

El rio de la calle queda deslerto un instante. Luego parece remontar de si mismo deseoso de volver a empezar. Queda un momento paralizado, mudo anhelante como el corazori entre dos espasmos.

Pero una nueva pulsacion, un nuevo ktido arroja al rio de la calle nuevos sedlentos seres. Se cruzan, se entrecrazan y suben. Vuelan a ras de tierra.

Nadan de pie, tan milagrosamente que nadie se atreveria a deck que no caminan. Son los Angeles* Han bajado a la tierra por invisibles escalas. Vienen del mar, que es el espejo del cielo, en barcos de humo y sombra, a fundirse y confundirse con los mortales,

308 XAVIER VILLAURRUTiA a constellation still older, still more intense than the others. And that constellation would be like a burning sex in the deep body of the night, or rather? like the Twins when, for the first time in their lives, they looked, face to face, into each other's eyes and embraced each other for ever.

Suddenly the river of the street is peopled with thirsty beings. They walk, pause, go on again. Exchange glances^ venture smiles.

They form in casual couples . . .

There are turning paths and shaded benches, shores of undefinable deep forms and sudden hollows of blinding light and doors which yield to the slightest touch.

The river of the street is deserted for a moment. But then it seems to rise up from itself a^ though it would begin again, It is left for a a mute moment paralyzed? panting like the heart between two spasms.

But a new pulsing, a new throbbing hurls new thirsty beings into the river of the street They cross, intercross^ go up.

They fly close to the ground.

They swim on foot, so miraculously that no one would dare to say they are not walking. These are the Angels. They have come down to earth by invisible ladders. They come from the sea* heaven's mirror* in ships of smoke and shade, to fuse and confuse themselves with mortal men*

S99 XAVIER VILLAURRUTIA a rendir sus frentes en los muslos de las mujeres, a dejar que otras manos palpen sus cuerpos ebrHmente, y que otros cuerpos busquen los suyos hasta encontrarlos como se encuentran al cerrarse los labios de una misma boca, a fatigar su boca tanto tiempo inactiva, a poner en libertad sus leBguas de fuego, las ios las malas a decir cancioncs ? juramentos ? paiabras en que los hombres concentran el antlguo misterlo de ia carne, la sangre, y el deseo.

TIenen nombres supnestos, dlvlnamente sencillos.

Se llaman Dick o John5 o Marvin o Louis. En nada slno en la belleza se distingiien de los mortales. Caminan, se detienen,, proslguen. Cambian miradasy atreven sonrisas. Forman Imprevistas parejas. Sonrien maliclosamente al sublr en los ascensores de los hoteles donde aun se practka el vuelo lento y vertical. En sus cuerpos desnudos hay huellas celestldes: signos, estrellas y letras azules. Se dcjan caer en las carnas, se hunden en las almohadas que Ios hacen pensar todavia un momento en las nubes. Pero clerran los ojos para entregarse inejor a los goces de su encarnaclon mlsteriosa, y cuando duermen sueSan no con los angeles sino con los mortales.

400 XAVIER VILLAURRUT1A

to abase their brows to women's thighs, permit other feverish hands to caress their bodies, other bodies to seek theirs to the point of knowledge as the lips of the same mouth know each other in closing, to wear out mouths inactive for so long, to set free their tongues of fire, to utter the songs, oaths, and evil words in which men concentrate the ancient enigma of flesh, blood, and desire.

They bear assumed namesy divinely simple. They are called Dick or John, Marvin or Louis. Only in their beauty are they to be distinguished from mortal men.

They walk, pause, go on again. Exchange glances, venture smiles. They form in casual couples* They smile maliciously going up in hotel elevators where vertical slow flight is still being practised. On their naked bodies there are celestial marks:

signs, stars, blue letters. They drop into beds, sink into the pillows that make them think for a moment longer of the clouds. But they close their eyes, the better to yield to the delights of their mysterious incarnation^ and when they sleep they dream not of angels but of mortals. IX F.

401 XAVIER ABRIL

ELKGSA A IM PEWHDO Y WA M^mMAm mKL TIEMPO

(La sombra de yedra que aflige tu semblantes apaga la hondura de tus ojos coma un sspulcro en el fondo del bosgue).

LAPIDA borrosa y oculta en ci bosque, mas alia de la muerce del maraiol y de la patina del tiempo,

Testigos son las bravas corrientes, los ultimos resplandores, las adelfas y el silencio.

Podeis confondir sus ojos con las letras blancas dc la muerte, con el negror que cae del cielo todas las noches de la muerte, con ella mlsma si la iuz la hiiblera conocido.

La la cubre desde la I pledra que mucrte, la sombra que la oculta desde la muerte !

Olvldad el paisaje que la secuestra a fondo de mares y de Hanto. Asi sera mejor para el olvido, dura piedra, leve flor.

Muerta en el alba despertera en el aire la miisica dormida de las flores.

Pierdanse costas de espanto y cabelleraSj plerdese el mundo en sitio tan pequeno: temba, oscuridad^ tragedia vegetal^ mar de su cuerpo.

es la txalta en alto vacio Y todo lo que miisica 5 en bosque Incinerado : jnube, pledra de martirio, tabla de naufraglo,

mudo fuego de sacrificio !

402 XAVIERABRIL

ELEGY TO TME JL0ST AND BY

(The ivy shadow^ troubling your look quenches the depths of your eyes like a tomb in the deaths of the woods.)

BLURRED tombstone, hidden in the woods, beyond the death of marble and the patina of time.

The wild streams are witness,

the sun's last flares, the rosebays and the silence.

You may take her eyes for the white letters of death, for the darkness that falls from above every night of death^ for death itself, had the light known it.

The stone that covers her since death,

the shadow that conceals her since death !

Forget the landscape that isolates her in depths of sea and weeping* It will be better so for the forgetting.,

hard stonea light flower.

Dead at dawn the slumbering music of the flowers will awaken in the air.

Let shores of fright and streaming hair be lost, the world Is lost in so small a place: sea of her flesh, tomb, darkness^ vegetal tragedy?

And all that is music exalts her Into the lofty void, in the charred forest: cloud, stone of immolation, plank of wreckage,

mute fire of sacrifice !

405 XA.VIERABRIL

Conslderad detras del tlempo de musicas y lluvias su definitive su color posiclon 3 personal, su nombre ya perdldo y las palabras de su boca. si lo los a duro Como supieran3 pajaros dialogan pico con arbustos y peiias de la quietud natural.

Al fondo del cielo, al horde de su lapida, la tempestad bate bosques y cuernos de animales. La tempestad, la musica total, envuelve al ser y cuanto ha sido. La fragil muerte bajo la piedra^ bajo la sombra. El olvidoj el silencio, la musica total.

A JLA MUJTJBM

UNA mujer o su. sombra de yedra llena esta soledad de lamparas vacias.

En la memoria del corazon esta marchita una flor? un noinbre de mujer.

Los ojos de la ausencia estan llenos de Huvia3 de paisajes helados y sin arboles.

I Qulen conoce el nombre de esa mujer que olvlda su cabellera en los rios del alba ? jQue dificil es distinguir entre la troche y una mujer aliogada hace tkmpo en un estanque!

El desmayo de una flor no se compare al silencio de sus parpados cerrados. XAVIERABRIL

Ponder beyond the time of music and rains her eternal placement, her personal colour, her name already lost and the words of her month. 5 As if they knew It, the birds harsh beaks converse with shrubs and peaks of nature's stillness.

In the depth of heaven, at the edge of her gravestone, the tempest beats at the woods and the horns of beasts. The tempest, total music, envelops being and all that has been. Fragile death beneath the stone, beneath the shadow. total Forgetfulness^ sllence? music. B. L. C.

TO Tmm IIWEVTJEB WOMAN

A WOMAM or her shadow of Ivy fills this solitude with empty lamps.

In the memory of the heart a flower Is withered; a woman's name.

The eyes of absence are full of rain, of frozen landscapes without trees.

Who knows the name of that woman who forgets her tresses in rivers of dawn ?

How difficult to distinguish between the night and a woman long-drowned In a pool !

The swooning of a flower can not compare with the silence of her shut eyelids. M.L. 405 XAVIERABRIL

KXAMtTACtON mm JLAS MATEBXAS EUEMENTALES

(En dcsnudez intacta^ escafofrzo, desrnayo y suefio. JDebaJo de sus senos nace un no gue olvida los ternblores de su cucrpo).

I TE qmieres dar a mi hasta palidecer desmayada en la noche ? I Y que tu cabellera enclenda los troplcos intimos del a* *or ?

I Sentlr la claridad del alba anegada en tus senos ? I Hundirte en mi, en la temeraria orfandad de la sangre ?

Yo suefio verte un dia desnuda de tallos y de aurora, sefialando la transformaclon de las esferas, alta de medlodia^ cenltal y luminosa, -

: ! solltaria, unlca J eteraa rosa

has entrar f COMQ podido as% nebulosa, en el sHencio de esta nocke vacia de amor, rota de dolor, a iluminar la soledad de ml vlda!

Oculto estaba dentro de mi mismo, sordo y perdido en la mina del odio.

Fue un suave rumor, jy me sangro la vida en lo interior!

406 XAVIERABRIL

OF

(Complete in nakedness^ shiver, siuoon and sleep. Beneath her breasts a sir&am is born forgets the trembling of her body,)

Do you wish to give yourself to me until you lose colour swooning in the night ? And until your hair sets on fire the secret tropics of love ?

To feel the clarity of dawn drowned in your breasts ? To sink into me in the foolhardy orphanhood of the blood ?

I dream of seeing you one day stripped of stems and of dawn, marking the transformation of the spheres, at lofty with noon ? the zenith, luminous, solitary, single: eternal rose! H.R.H.

How HAVE you managed to enter so, like a mi

into the silence of this night empty of love?

broken with grief5 bringing light into the loneliness of my life !

I was hidden within myself? deaf and lost in the mine of hatred.

It was a gentle sound? alookj and my life drained away within me! H. R. H.

407 CESAR MORO

VJfJEJVJES JEW JLA C$N EJL FAJBWJXMSO JB TI/ CASEXJLJERA

APARECES La vida es cierta Ei olor de ia lluvia es cierto La lluvia te hace nacer Y golpear mi puerta Oh arboi Y la ciudad el mar que navegaste Y la noche se abre a tu paso Y el corazon vuelve de lejos a asomarse Hasta llegar a tu frente Y verte como la magia resplandeciente Montana de oro o de nieve Con el humo fabuloso de tu cabellera Con las bestlas nocturnas en los ojos Y tu cuerpo de rescoldo Con la noche que riegas a pedazos Con los bloques de noche que caen de tus manos Con el silencio que prende a tu llegada Con e! trastorno y el oleaje Con el vaiven de las casas Y el oscllar de luces y la sombra mas dura Y tus palabras de avenida fluvial Tan pronto llegas y te fuiste Y quleres poner a flote mi vida Y solo preparas ml mueite Y la muerte de esperar Y el morir de verte lejos Y los silencios y el esperar el tiempo Para vivir cuando llegas Y me rodeas de sombra Y me haces luminoso 408 CESAR MORO

you COME IN FABULOUS OF yOCR

You appear Life is certain

The smell of rain is certain Rain gives birth to you And makes you knock at my door Otree

And the city the sea that you sailed upon And the night opens at your step And the heart peers out again from afar Until it reaches your forehead And sees you glittering like oiagic Mountain of gold or of snow With the fabulous smoke of your hair With nocturnal beasts in your eyes And your body of embers With night that you sprinkle in fragments With blocks of night that fall from your hands With the silence that takes fire at your coming With the upheaval and the surging the of houses With swaying ^ And the oscillation of lights and the most solid shadow And your words a street like a river So quickly you come and you went away And you seek to launch my life And you only prepare my death And the death from waiting And the dying from seeing you far away And the silences and the waiting for time To live when you come And you surround me with shadow And you make me luminous CESAR MORO

Y me sumerges en el mar fosforcscente donde acaece tu estar Y donde solo dialogamos tu y mi nocion oscura y pavorosa de tuser Estrella desprendiendose en el apocalipsls Entre bramidos de tigres y lagrimas De gozo y gemir eterno y eterno Solazarse en el aire rarificado En que quiero aprisionarte Y rodar por la pendiente de tu cuerpo Hasta tus pies centelleantes Hasta tus pies de constelaciones gemelas En la noche terrestre Que te sigue encadenada y muda Enredadera de tu saogre Sosteniendo la flor de tu cabeza de cristal moreno Acuario encerrando planetas y caudas Y la potencia que hace que el mundo siga en pie y guarda el equilibrlo de los mares Y tu cerebro de materla lumlnosa Y mi adhesion sin fin y el amor que nace sin cesar Y te envuelve

Y que tus pies transitan Abriendo huellas Indelebles Donde puede leerse la historia del mundo Y el porvenir del universo Y ese Iigarse luminoso de mi vida A tu exlstencia

>IPOJLUXADOS EN

EL Incesto representado por un seiior de levita Reclbe las felkltaclones del viento caliente del incesto Una rosa fatlgada soporta un cadaver de pajaro

410 CESAR MORO

And you drown me in the phosphorescent sea where you happen to be And where there is no speech but between you and my obscure and fearful notion of your being Star issuing out in the apocalypse Among howls of tigers and tears Of joy and moaning for ever and for ever Self-solace in the thin air In which I seek to imprison you And to roll down the slope of your body Even to your sparkling feet Even to the twin constellations of your feet In the earthly night That follows you enchained and dumb Entangled in your blood Supporting the dark crystal flower of your head Aquarium enclosing planets and pontifical trains And the power that makes the world follow afoot and keeps the balance of the seas And your brain of luminous matter And my endless adherence and the love that is ceaselessly born And enfolds you And that your feet travel upon Opening indelible footprints Where the history of the world can be read And the future of the universe And that luminous binding together of my life With your existence H. R. H.

ffiAWmW PIANOS FAUJ2VG TO

INCEST represented by a frockcoated gentleman of incest Receives the congratulations of the hot wind of a bird A fatigued rose supports the corpse

411 CESAR MGRO

Pajaro de piomo donde tienes ei cesto del canto Y las provisioncs para tu cria de serplentes dc reloj Cuando acabes de estar muerto seras una briijula borracha Uii cabestro sobre el lecho esperando un caballero moribundo de las islas del Pacifico que navega en una tortuga musical divina y cretina Seras un mausoleo a las victimas de la peste o un equillbrio pasajero entre dos Irenes que chocan Mlentras la plaza se llena de humo y de paja y llueve algodon arroz agua ceboilas y vestigios de alta arqueologia Una sarten dorada con un retrato de mi madre Un banco de ccsped con tres estatuas de carbon Ocho cuartlllas dc papel manuscritas en aleman Algunos dias de la semana en carton con la narlz azul Pelos de barba de diferentes presidentes de la republica del Peru clavindose como flechas de pledra en la calzada y produciendo un patrlotlsmo vlolento en los enfer- mos de la vejiga Seras un volcan minusculo mas bello que tres perros sedientos haciendose revcrencias y recomendaciones sobre la manera de hacer crecer el trlgo sobre pianos fuera de uso

EL

IGUAL que tu ventana'que no existe Como una sombra de mano en un instrumento fantasma

Con la misma igualdad con la continuldad preciosa que me asegura idealmente tu existencia A una distancia A la distancia A pesar de la distancia Con tu frente y tu rostro Y toda tu presencia sin cerrar los ojos

4421 CESAR MORO

Leaden bird where is your basket of song And provisions for your brood of clock serpents When you stop being dead you will be a drunken compass A halter on the bed awaiting a moribund gentleman from the isles of the Pacific who sails on a musical turtle divine and cretinous

You will be a mausoleum for victims of the plague or a passing equilibrium between two trains in collision While the square fills with smoke and straw and rains down cotton rice water onions and vestiges of high archaeology A gilded frying-pan with my mother's portrait A lawn settee with three charcoal statues

Eight sheets of paper written in German script Some days of the week in cardboard with blue noses Hairs from the beards of different presidents of the Republic of Peru nailing themselves like stone arrows into the causeway and producing a violent patriotism in those with ailing bladders You will be a minuscule volcano more beautiful than three

thirsty dogs bowing to one another and recommending a method of making wheat grow on disused pianos M.L.

LIKE your window that does not exist Like the shadow of a hand on a phantom instrument With the same equality with the precious continuity that your existence ideally assures me of At a distance At the distance

In spite of the distance With your forehead and your face And your whole presence without closing the eyes

4*3 CESAR MORO

Y el paisaje que brota de tu presencia cuando la ciudad no era no podia ser sine el reflejo de tu presencia de hecatombe Para mejor mojar las plumas de las aves Cae esta lluvia de muy alto Y me enclerra dentro de ti a mi solo

Dentro y lejos de ti Coino un camino que se plerde en otro continente

4*4 CESAR MORO

And the landscape that blossoms from your presence when the city was not could not be anything but the reflection of your hecatomb presence The better to moisten the plumage o birds This rain fails from on very high And shuts me up alone within you Within and far from you Like a road which is lost on another continent

,\T . L.

415 EMILIO ADOLFO VON WESTPHALEN

Jic

el tieuipo los pies crecen y maduran andando el tiempo los liombres se miran en los espejos y no se ven andando el tiempo zapatos de cabritilla corriendo el tiempo zapatos de atleta cojeando el tiempo con errar de cada instante y no regresar alzando el dedo senalando apresurando es el tiempo y no tiene tiempo no tengo tiempo mostrar la libreta todo en orden por aquf a la aventura silencio cerrado por alia la descompuesta inmovil movil ya llega y tarda y se olvida por aca con boca falsa y palabras de otra hora el pafiuelo nuevo y pronto para el adios adios y no ha llegado esta es la senal el tiempo casi no es nifio pero flor no es casi cuando esta sobre un arbol se divisa el paisaje la estrella los zapatos 416 EMILIO ADQLFO VON WESTPHALEN

AS TIME 0W

As TIME goes on feet grow and mature as time goes on men look at themselves in mirrors and do not see themselves as time goes on kidskin shoes as time runs on track shoes as time limps on with the straying of each instant and no returning raising a finger signaling hastening it is time and has no time I have no time show the passbook all in order this way to adventure locked silence that way the run-down immobile mobile already arrives and is late and forgets this way with mouth of falsity and words of another hour the handkerchief new and quick for goodbye goodbye and it has not arrived this is the signal time

almost is not a child

but is no flbwer almost

when it is over a tree the landscape is perceived the star shoes EMILIO ADOLFO VON WESTPHALEN osamentas cie pescado y el ojo llena el horlzonte el tiempo aunque cojee y se hiera y se lamente prohlbldo no te hagas tan silencio la nube sabe de otro lugar son las escaleras que bajan porque nadie sube porque nadie muerde la nuca sino las flores o los pies UagacEbs andando y sangre de tiempo gotas la lluvia el torrente la mano llega este es su destlno llegar el tiempo se devuelve y listed sabe mas estaba junto al silencio estaba con ojos pequenos la mano a lo deslerto el pie a lo Ignorado indudable los prestados podian ser mios si un leve slgno no dijera y no decia alzada levantada me doy a tu mas leve giro al amor de las pestaiias a lo no dlcho vertigo te temia sin noche y sin dia aunque no regreses por la marcha de mis fcmesos a una otra noche por el silencio que se cae o tn sexo EMILIO ADOLFO VON WESTPHALEN fish-skeletons and the eye fills the horizon time even though it limps and hurts itself and bemoans itself forbidden do not make yourself so silence the cloud knows of otherwhere they are stairways that go down since nobody comes up since nobody bites the nape except flowers or wounded feet as time bleeds on drops the rain the torrent the hand arrives this is its destiny time arriving comes back and you know more close to silence with little eyes hand in the deserted foot in the unknown indubitable the lent bones could be mine if an insignificant sign did not say was not saying raised lifted I surrender to your most gentle gyre to the love of eyelashes to the unsaid dizziness I feared you without night and without day although you do not return in the march of my bones to another night in the silence that falls or your sex H. R. H. RAFAEL MENDEZ DORICH

- ULEVABA Ul JLAJffPARA

LLEVABA la Mmpara: se decia *f Que no apague nuncaP y la apretaba contra su pecho y la lampara mas luz tenia. *jQue no se apague nuncaF El viento tenazmente la zaheria

y ia luz de la lampara le quemaba los ojos, pero ella estaba contenta y reia:

fi jQue no se apague nunca!' decfa, y apretaba contra su pecho la lampara encendlda.

PASTORA de porcelana, ante un rebano de nieve, una cestilla de mimbre tus manos sabias tejieron, una cestilla de mimbre llena de luz y de viento y lana de to rebano, Pastorcilla del Inviemo. Virgen de la noche clara, desposada de mi sueno, florecen a la inocencia los azahares de tus senos, De todas tus huellas han brotado azucenas y tus palabras son palomas mensajeras,

1 pero, las esquilas Mmedas de tus ojos siempre tristes, acariclan las llanadas donde pacen tus corderos el alma de los almendros y el lino de tus cabellos. Los Reyes del Crepiisculo han venido para la navidad de tus ojeras.

420 RAFAEL MENDEZ DORICH

WAS CARXYMNG JMLWF

SHE was carrying the lamp: *Let It never go out!* she said, and she hugged It to her breast, and the lamp burned brighter still. 'Let It never go out!* The wind stubbornly rebuked her and the light of the lamp burnt her eyes, but she was gay and laughing: 5 It TLet never go out! she said? and hugged to her breast the lighted lamp. D. D, W.

OF

a flbck SHEPHERDESS of porcelain^ facing snowy ? your clever hands wove a wicker basket, a wicker basket filled with light and wind and wool from your flock., little Shepherdess of Winter. Virgin of the clear night, bride of my dream, the orange-blossoms of your breasts unfold In innocence. Lilies have flowered from all your steps and your words are homing pigeons; are but their moist bells yet your eyes always sad; 5 the soul of the almond trees and flax of your hair, caress the meadows where your lambs are grazing. The Kings of the Dusk have come for the birth of your eyes; RAFAEL MENDEZ DORICH

El Cordero Pascuai bala en tu pecho y la Estrella Polar brilla en tu frente. Tus manos se hicieron cunas para que la luna duerma. Se ha banado de pureza tu cabeza descublerta: jque pronto has envejecldo bajo esta lluvia de nieve! Tu, que viniste pastora^ te has convertido en oveja. Melancolica zagala, pastorcllla del invlerno:

cuando resuclte el sol, se moriran tsis corderos . . .

MIS GATOS LANCS BE JLA

Los GATOS blancos de la dnquesa ensimlsmados de luna ausente

hacen ovillos con las tanagras de porcelana. Por las ventanas, ablertas siempre,

que? manoteando, clerra la noche muerta de fiestas, como espirales de humo cansado se van filtrando de su sllenclo ? perseguldores ? largos y en fila, en via lactea para los syenos de la duquesa. Los roedores de la manana, como taladros fosforescentes, se esconden bajo los suaves parpados de la duquesa y, sigilososj van horadando el noble pecho de la durmlente, Los blancos arafian locos la gatos ? a sombra densa y rasgan todos los estertores de la tinlebla y, poco a poco, se van abriendo los suaves parpados de la duquesa.

Y luego, Ientos3 como camellos en caravana de mercaderes^ hacia el Orlente^ slempre en hilera, meditabundos, como una hiiella larga de nieve

se van pausados los gatos blancos de la duquesa . . .

422 RAFAEL MENDEZ DORICH

the Paschal Lamb bleats in your breast and the North Star shines on your brow.

Your hands are cradles to rock the moon to sleep.

Your bare head has been bathed in purity :

how quickly you have aged beneath this rain of snow ! You, who came as a shepherdess, have hair as white as wool Melancholy lass, little shepherdess of winter, when the sun revives, your lambs will die ... D.D.W.

HI/CHESS'S WHITE CATS

THE white cats of the duchess, tranced by the absent moon, lie curled about the Tanagra figurines. Through the ever open windows that night, dead with revelry, is closing with a wave of its hands,

like spirals of weary smoke they filter, intent on their silence^ in a long line^ a Milky Way for the duchess's dreams.

The gnawers of the morningj like phosphorescent drills, hide beneath the duchess's smooth eyelids and stealthily bore into the sleeper's aristocratic breast. The white cats claw crazily at the thick shadow and tear out all the dying gasps of darkness, and little by little, the duchess's smooth eyelids gently open. And then^ slowly, like camels in a caravan of merchants^ toward the Orient, always in line^ contemplativcj like a long snowy footprint, the duchess's white cats go their stately way . . .

D. D. W t 423 PABLO DE ROKHA

ALE-GOR1A BEL TORME1T

EOTRE la vida y la imagen de la vida, combatiendo, mi corazon, como un animal rojo, bramando, escarbando lo sagrado, gritando tlerra y cosas, su drama eterno de guerrero, contra el error y el terror, desplazandose . . .

Ahora, con anclio latigo, azota el mito mi certeza, mientras la socledad me inunda y mi zapato contra el oceano batalla, mientras da aguilas mi enigma, y va a estallar el sol del yo, cmjiendo, mientras la materia relampaguea en todo lo alto de mi pecho, mientras crece el presente su Srbol, mientras la ciudad boreal asoma su paloma de substancia.

Arrasar la personalidad abstracta, la idolatria mitica, las la el drama tremendo, chimeneas de anarqnia5 cielos negros con cemento^ reconstruyendo, y al abismo entre el ser y su impetu, arrojar todas las murallas.

Parado sobre sepulcros* en central ciudad de desorden, busco mi flor de polvora, mi caballo muerto entre titrros, sin escudos, sin palancas, la eficiente cantidad de fusiles rojos3 el volunaen del liecho del subsuelo del sueno, kinchando stis velamenes, la fruta de la realidad abierta y espantosa como montana, como hueso, como paloma o lenguaje. PABLO DE ROKHA

OF

life life's BETWEEN and image, battling9 my heart, like a red animal, roaring, scratching at what is earth screaming and objects 3 its eternal warrior-drama,

against error and terror, displacing itself . . .

Now, with a broad whip, the myth lashes my assurance, while society whelms me and my shoe battles against the ocean, while eagles spring from my enigma, and that sun which I am goes on to explode, crackling, while matter flashes on the heights of my chest, while the present flourishes, its tree, while the boreal city puts forth its dove of substance,

To raze abstract personality, mythical idolatry, the tremendous drama, chimneys of anarchy, black cemented skies, reconstructing, and to cast into the abyss all the walls between being and its impulse.

Standing upon sepulchres, in the central city of disorder, I seek my flower of dust, horse dead swords without without my among ? shields, stockades,

the effective quantity of red rifles, the volume of the event from the subsoil of sleep, swelling its

sails,

the fruit of reality^ open and horrible, like mountain, like bone, like dove or language.

425 PABLO DE ROKHA

Ser en lo cotidiano con 3 vertice, agrandando relampagos, es deck, viviendo lo enigmatico,,

sembrar la verdad en la Incognita y los hermosos rios del fluir, entre sus montafias.

No es exlstir en funcion religion de la Idea;

de llamas y frutas de piedra, si, acumulando la ansiedad vital entre tres paredes, cerrando todo lo poroso y de penumbra; ml alma y su servlcio social, que es su verdad, y su culebra^ y SB pantera, y sus ieones, porque lo tremendo, pero lo cierto, es lo concrete; tenaZj acerbo, fatal, lleno de saliva y ladrillos de iglesia, el camino del hombre y su grainatica, esta estalla cuando de mesas de palo nutrido? y coinienza el genesis.

Sintesis de los caballos encadenados, espuma de hierro de cielo o acento de la marea sublimatoria del individuo contra el universo, no soy yo, sino lo herolco y sus chacales mordiendo el numero burgues^ lo metaffsko, el ambito de de la tiniebla hijos ? la cnredando personalidad3 creando la celestial arafia de palabras, creando el enigma y sus angeles de sangre.

For todo lo del e$0j aquello? rojo impetu, aquel extraordinario

afan sintetico3 deviene fuego sublime, mano y cucMlla de oro, arranca el del del el y espiritu rodaje? como rodaje imponderable alarido de poderio; ya la heroicidad comunista, su estrella de trabajo, oceano de herofsmo sovietko ? organismo materialista, en las aguilas historico-dialecticas resonando y Icvantando los puiiados de la existencia.

426 PABLO DE ROKHA

To be, at the vortex, enlarging the quotidian with lightnings, that is to say, living by the enigmatical, to sow truth in the unknown and the beautiful rivers of flux

between its mountains.

This is not existence in operation cult of the idea; of flames and stone fruits, yes, accumulating vital anxiety within three walls, locking up all that is porous and shadowy; my soul and its social usefulness, which is its truth, and its its its lions serpent, and panther, and ? since what is tremendous., but certain, is what is concrete; tenacious, sharp,, fatal, full of saliva and church-wall bricks^ man's road and grammar, when nourished on wooden tables^ explodes: and genesis begins.

Synthesis of enchained horses, foam of iron from the sky or accent of the sublimatory tide of the individual against the universe, its it is not I, but the heroic and jackals gnawing the burgeois numeral, the metaphysical^ the realm of

the sons of darkness5 celestial of entangling the personality., creating the spider

words* creating a the enigma and its angels of blood.

For that very reason, all the redness of impetus, that extraor- dinary synthetic yearning of becomes sublime fire, hand and knife gold5 as from it wrests the and wrests the spirit from the gears, gears immeasurable shout of power: Communist heroism now, its star of labour, ocean of Soviet heroism, materialist organism resounding in the historko-dialectical eagles, and raising fistfuls of existence* PABLO DE ROKHA

Si, no el profeta, no ci iluminado, no el terrible megalomano de metaforas, salteando los potros lieroicos, no, adentro de la historia, haciendo la historia, expresando lo que fluye? sucede y gravita, contra mis simboios, azotandome, desgarrandome, en virtud de la verdad marxista, colectlvamente, la dinamita de mi ser estalla, PABLO DEROKHA

the Ah yes, not the prophet^ not enlightened one? not the terrible megalomaniac of metaphors, stealing heroic colts, no, within history making history^ expressing what flows^ hap- pens, and gravitates, against my symbols, lashing me, rending me, by virtoe of Marxist truth, collectively, the dynamite of my being explodes. H.R.H.

439 CESAR VALLEJO

JPEURSO2V.4LS

LAS personas mayores I a que hora volveran ? Da las sels el ciego Santiago, y ya esta muy oscuro.

Madre dijo que no deraoraria.

Aguedita ? Nativa, Miguel, culdado con ir por ahi, por donde acaban de pasar gangueando sus memorias dobladoras penas^ hacia el sUencloso corral^ y por donde las gallinas que se estan acostando todavia, se han espantado tanto.

Mejor estemos aqui no naas. Madre dijo que no demoraria.

Ya no tengamos pena. Vamos viendo

! los barcos j el mio es mas bonito de todos con los cuales jugamos todo el santo dia? sin pelearnos5 como debe de ser: han quedado en el pozo de agua^ listos, fletados de dulces para manana.

Aguardemos asi, obedientes y sin mas remedio^ la vuelta, el desagravio de los mayores siempre delanteros 430 CESAR VALLEJO

THE grown-ups what time will they get back ? Blind Saint fames is striking six, and it's already very dark.

Mother said she wouldn't stay long.

Little Agatha, Nadya, Michael, be careful of going where the double toll of punishment has just passed whining its memories, the silent toward yard t toward where the henSj who are stil! going to bed, have had such a fright.

We're better off right here. Mother said she wouldn't stay long,

And let's not be sad any more. Let's go looking at the boats (mine's the prettiest of all!) which we've been playing with the whole blessed day, without squabbling, as it ought to be: they're still there in the water-hole, ready, freighted with treats for tomorrow.

And let's wait like this, obedient, with nothing

we can do about it, till the grown-ups come back and make it up to us: the grown-ups who always come first,

43* CESAR VALLEJO

dejandonos en casa a los pequeios ? como si tamblen nosotros no pudiesemos partir.

Aguedita, Nativa, Miguel ? Llamo, busco al tanteo en la oscurldad, No me vayan a ver dejado solo, y el unico recluso sea yo.

mi; mos mm

el dos de Novlembre.

Estas sillas son buenas acojidas. La rama del presentimiento

va5 viene? sube3 ondea sudorosa^ fatigada en esta sala. Dobla triste el dos de Noviembre*

Difuntos? que bajo cortan vuestros dientes abolldosj repasando ciegos nervios,, sin recordar la dura fibra que cantores obreros redondos remiendan con canamo inacabable^ de innumerables nudos laticntes de encmcijada.

Vosotros^ difuntos, de las nitidas rodillas puras a fuerza de cntregaros, como aserrais el otro corazon con vtiestras blancas coronas, ralas de cordialldad. SL Vosotros^ difuntos.

Dobla triste el dos de Novlembre. Y la rama del presentimiento se la tnuerde un carro que siraplernente rueda por la calle. CESAR VALLEJO leaving us little ones behind at home as though we too couldn't go out,

Little Agatha, Nativa, Michael ? I'm calling yon, Pm feeling around in the darkness, Don't go away and leave me all alone to be the only one shut in. D, D. w.

THE second of November tolls.

These chairs are a place of refuge. The branch of foreboding comes and goes, rises., and steaming sways wearied in this room, Sadly tolls the second of November,

You deadj how deep your abolished teeth cut, passing over blind nerves^ forgetful of the tough fibre that plump singing workers mend 'with endless hemp and with innumerable fluttering crisscross knots.

You, the dead, with bare knees pure by dint of surrender: how you hack at the other heart with your white crowns, sparing of your cordiality. Yes. You* the dead.

Sadly tolls the second of November. And the branch of foreboding is bitten by a simple cart rolling through the street. D. D. W. 433 CESAR VALLEJO

*5fl JULOVIfRA mSTA NWCMffi*

Si lloviera esta noche^ retirariame de aqui a mil anos. Mejor a den no mas. Como si nada hubiese ocurrido^ haria la cuenta de que vengo todavia.

O sin madre, sin amada, sin porfia de agacharme a aguaitar al fondo, a puro pulso, esta noche asi, estaria escarmenando la fibra vedica, la lana vedica de mi fin final, hilo del diantxe, traza de haber tenido por las narices a dos badajos inacordes de tiempo en una misma campana.

Haga la cuenta de ml vida o haga la cuenta de no haber aun nacido, no alcanzare a librarme.

No sera lo que aun no haya venido., sino lo se ido que ha llegado y ya ha ? sino lo que ha llegado y ya se ha ido.

JLA ARA2VA

Es una arafia enorme que ya no anda; arana incolora una ? cuyo cuerpo? una cabeza y un abdomen, sangra.

Hoy la he visto de cerca. Y con que esfuerzo hacia todos los flancos

434 CESAR VALLEJO

IF IT KAJtiVJEl) TONIGHT9

IF It rained tonight, I should retreat a thousand years away, Or better,. Just a hundred. As if nothing had happened, I should dream that I am still to come.

Or without mother,, without mistress^ with no urge to crouch down here on watch, clinging to I a night like thisy should be untangling the Vedic fibre,, the Vedic skein of my final end, devil's thread, with a look of having held by the nose two jangling clappers of time in one single bell*

Whether I dream my life or dream that I am not yet born^ freedom is beyond my reach.

It will not be what is still to come? but what has come and is now gone5 but what has come and is now gone, D. D. W,

farther IT is a huge spider that can not crawl ; a spider drained of colour,, whose body-, all head and abdomen, bleeds.

Today I watched it close. With what effort toward every side

435 CESAR VALLEJO

sus pies ijtinumerables alargaba. Y he pensado en sus ojos invisibles^ los pilotos fatales de la arana.

Es una araiia que temblaba fija en un filo de piedra; el abdomen a un lado, y al otro la cabeza.

Con tantos pies la pobre^ y aun no puede

resolverse. Y? al verla atonita en tal trance, hoy me ha dado que pena esa via] era.

Es araiia una enorme? a quien iropide el abdomen seguir a la cabeza. Y he pensado en sus ojos y en sus pies numerosos . . . ha | Y me dado que pena esa viaj era!

ESTA tarde llueve ? como nunca; y no tengo ganas de vivir, corazon.

Esta tarde es dulce. Porque no ha de ser ? Viste gracia y pena; viste de mujer. Esta tarde en Lima Ilueve. Y yo recuerdo las cavcrnas crueles de mi ingratitud; mi bloque de hielo sobre su amapola, 9 mas fuerte que su *No seas asi!

Mis violentas flores negras; y la barbara y enorme pedrada; y el trecho glacial. Y pondra el silencio de su dignidad con oleos quemantes el punto final. CESAR VALLEJO it put out Its innumerable feet. And I have been thinking of its invisible eyes, the fatal pilots of the spider.

It is a spider which trembling was fixed the of a stone upon sharp edge ; its abdomen on one side, and on the other its head.

With all the feet the poor thing has, it still can not make up its mind. And, on seeing it dazed at so tense a time, what a pang that traveler has given me today.

It is a huge spider., whose abdomen prevents it from foliowing* its head. And I have been thinking of its eyes

and of its numerous feet* . . And what a pang that traveler has given me! D.D.W

THIS afternoon it is raining as never bcfore, and I, my heart, have no desire to live.

This afternoon is sweet Why shouldn't it be ? It is dressed in grace and sorrow; dressed like a woman.

It is raining this afternoon in Lima, And I remember the cruel caverns of my ingratitude; ice her my block of crushing poppy? stronger than her *Don*t be like this!*

black flowers and the barbarous My violent ; and enormous stoning; and the glacial interval. And the silence of her dignity will mark in burning oils the final period.

437 CESAR VALLEJO

For eso esta tarde? como nunca, voy con este buho> con este corazonr.

Y otras pasan; y viendome tan triste, toman un poqulto de ti en la abrupta arruga de mi hondo dolor.

Esta tarde llueve mucho. Y no llueve, { tengo ganas de vivir, corazon!

JESPAWA, APARTA mm Mi ESTE CAJLIZ

NINOS del uitindo, si cae Espana digo, es un decir sicae del cielo abajo su antebrazo que asen, en cabestro? dos laminas terrestres;

edad la de las sienes concavas f ninos, J que Jque temprano en el sol lo que os decia! {que pronto en vuestro pecfio el ruido anciano!

vuestro 2 en el cuaderno ! I que viejo

Ninos del mundo, esta la madre Espaiia con su vlentre a cuestas; esta nuestra maestra con sus ferulas, esta madre y maestra,, la craz y madera ? porque os dio altura, vertigo y division y suma, ninos; esta con ella, padres procesales !

Si cae digo, es un decir si cae Espana, de la tierra para abajo,

438 CESAR VALLEJO

And so this afternoon, as never before^ I go with, this owlj with this heart.

And other women pass; and seeing me so mournful, they take a little of you from the grim convolution of my pain.

This afternoon It Is raining^ pouring* And I, my heart, have no desire to live! M. L.

AffJE? THIS CIHP

of the world, if Spain falls I say, if It should happen if they tear down from the sky her forearrn^ held In a halter by two terrestrial rings: children, what an age of hollowed temples! How soon the sun will bring what I foretold ! How quick in your breast the ancient shouting! How lost the B+ in your notebook !

Children of the world* Mother Spain sweats with weariness; our teacher with her ferules, our mother and mistress* our cross and our wood, for she gave you height^

dizziness and division and addition* children ;

she Is hard pressed,, fathers of tomorrow I

If she falls., I say, if it should happen If Spain falls., from earth downward^

439 CESAR VALLEJO

nino$ como vais a cesar de crccer ! ? j

va a ei ano al ! | como castigar mes como van a en diez los j quedarse dientes., en palote el diptongo, la medalla enilanto! Como va el corderillo a continuar I atado por la pata al gran tlntero! Como vais a las del alfabeto j bajar gradas hasta la letra en que nacio la pena!

los hijos de guerreros? entretanto, bajad la voz* que Espaiia esta ahora mismo repartiendo la energia entre el reino animal, las florecillas, los cometas y los hombres. la esta j Bajad voz^, que con su rigor, que es grande, sin saber que hacer, y esta en su mano la calavera hablando y habla y habla, la calavera, aqnella de la trenza, la calavera, aquella de la vida!

la os J Bajad voz? digo; bajad la voz, el canto de las silabas, el llanto de la materia y el rumor menor de las plramides, y aun el de las sienes que andan con dos piedras ! el si J Bajad aliento, y el antebrazo baja, si las fenilas suenan, si es la noche, si el cielo cabe en dos limbos terrestres, si hay ruido en el sonido de las puertas, si tardo, si no veis a nadie7 si os asustan los lapices sin punta, si la madre Espaiia cae digo, es un decir

y nifios del mundo; id a buscarla! . . .

440 CESAR VALLEJO

children, then you will grow no more ! Then the year will punish the month! Then the teeth In your mouth will stop with ten, the diphthong will end on a downstroke, the medal In tears! The little primer lamb will be left in the big inkwell, unread, unwritten!

You will go down the steps of the alphabet as far as the letter at which pain was born !

Children, sons of warriors, meanwhile hush your voices, for Spain even now is parting her strength among the animal kingdom, the little flowers, the comets, and man. Hush your voices, for she is in agony, great agony, not knowing what to do, and In her hand

Is the talking skull that talks and talks, the skull with braided hair,

the skull of life!

Hush your voices, I tell you; hush your voices, the chanting of syllables, the wailing of lessons and the minor murmur of the Pyramids, and even that of your temples which throb with two stones! Hush your breath, and if

her forearm falls,

if the ferules rap, if night comes, if the sky is contained In two terrestrial limbs. If there is a creaking in the sound of doors,

If I am late, if yon see no one, if you are frightened if Mother by pencils without points, Spain falls I say, if it should happen

the world and seek her ! go forth, children of ; go D.D.W.

44* OUVERIO GIRONDO

c.14XJUE mm JLAST

corrlente de brazos y espaldas nos encauza y nos tiace desembocar bajo IDS abanicos^ las pipas, los anteojos enormes colgados en medio de la calle : unices testimonies de una raza desaparecida de gigantes.

Sentados al borde de las cual si foeran a dar un brinco y ponerse a bailar^ los parroquianos de los cafes aplauden la actividad del camarero, mientras los limpiabotas les lustran los zapatos hasta que pueda leerse el anuncio de la corrida del domingo.

Con sus caras de mascaron de el habano hace las veces de los hacendados penetran en los despachos de bebidas 5 a muletear los argumentos como si entraran a matar ; y acodados en los mostradores* que siniulan barreras^ brindan a la concurrencia el miura disecado que asoma la cabeza en la pared. OLIVERIO GIRONDO

A STREAM of arms and backs is our channel that spews us forth beneath the fans, the pipes., the huge eyeglasses hanging over the middle of the street : sole witnesses to a race of giants now no more.

Seated on the edge of their chairs as if they were about to give a bound and break into dancingj the cafe customers speed on the waiter with hand-clapping^ while bootblacks shine their shoes until one can read in them the announcement of Sunday's bull-fight,

"With their shlp*s-figurehead faces cigars serving as bowsprits the rich farmers barge into the drinking-places to brandish arguments as though they were going in for the kill ; and leaning with their elbows on the counters that ape the ring-side barricades they drink their challenging toasts to the stuffed Miura bull who pokes his head out from the wall. OLIVERIO GIRONDO

Ceiiidos en sus capas, como toreros,, los curas entran en las peluquerias a afeitarse en cuatrocientos espejos a la vez, y cuando salen a la calle ya tlenen una barba de tres dias,

En los Invernaculos edificados por los circulos^ la pereza se da como en ninguna parte y los socios la ingleren con chiirros o con horchata> para encallar en los sillones sus abullas y sus laxltudes de fantocties.

Cada dosclentos cuaranta y seis tiombres, trescientos doce curas y doscientos noventa y tres soldados^, pasa una mujer.

444 OLIVERIO GIROKDO

Girdled in their capes3 like bullfighters, the priests come into the barber shops to be shaved in four hundred mirrors at once? and when they go out into the street again they are already wearing a three-days* beard.

In the conservatories built by the clubs you can find laziness as nowhere else : the members swallow it down -with fritters and cold J rinks., leaving stranded in deep armchairs their puppetllke stupor and spinelessness.

Every two hundred forty six men., three hundred twelve priests and two hundred ninety three soldiers,, a woman passes by. M, B. D.

44*5 GENARO ESTRADA

CJ&2VCJTO7VCJTJLJLA JEHV KJJ^ AMKE (Malaga.)

SALE esta manana el aire con su caracol rosado. Cuatro angeles mofletudos los vicntos estan soplando. Sale esta manana el aire enhiesto y empavesado*

Aire que vuela? que vuela5 aire del cielo.

Vuela y sopla el aire fresco qiie va empujando, empujando

las largas velas5 las largas jarcias del velero barco. Geografico vientecillo por mar y cielo azulados. Aire que pasa^ que pasa^ aire del mar. Vamos de la mano por el agro llano, entre el aire vasto

del caixipo aromado? a la negra sombra que nos brinda el arboL

Aire que rasa5 que rasa> aire del campo.

Aire ? solo aire, sin tiempo ni espacio* sin mar y sin cielo> GENARO ESTRADA

sm

air comes forth this morning with its rosy conch. Four chubby angels arc puffing the winds. The air comes forth, this morning sailing high with ail flags flying.

Flying* flying air^ air o die sky*

The cool air flies and puffs, It goes pushing^ pushing the long sall$5 the long rigging of the swift boat, Geographic little wind through, the azure sea and sky,

Passing^ passing air^ air of the sea. "We go hand In hand through the level field* amid the vast air of the fragrant countryside^ to the black shade proffered by the tree,

j skimming air of the open fields*

Air, only air,

without time or spaces without sea, without sky*

44*7 GENARQ ESTRADA

sin monte nl campo; aire que atravlesa para ningun lado ; aire puro, solo, por la tierra y alto, tan fuera del mundo, tan sencillo y llano, que es el aire unico fino, lento, largo. Aire, solo aire.

el pozo se cayo una tarde.

de la sacara I j Ay mf, quien

La sortija de dos cifras perdido se me ha; con ella se me fueron un Iloro y tin cantar. Se me perdio la suerte, no la he vuelto a encontrar, aqoi estoy noche y dia al b-orde del brocal.

En el pozx> se cayo una tarde. la I Ay de mi, qnien sacara!

Mi sortija, la mia, era mi companera, a volver a encontrarla las cosas que yo diera, de volver a tenerla un momento siquiera, de llevarla en mi mano la lo que yo dijera ; GENARO ESTRADA

without mountain or field ; air traversing to neither side; pure air, only, on the ground and on high, so outside the world^ so simple, so plain ? that it is the only air* fine, slow, prolonged. Air^ only air, r z> n. w .

JLAMENTT JPO JLOS!F JLOVJE

IT dropped into the well one evening. Oh dear! Who'll get it out ?

My double-lettered ring5

I've lost it now ; and with it went tears and a song. I've lost my luck, Fve not found it again, and I'm here night and day at the curb of the welL

It dropped into the well one evening. Oh dear! Who'll get it out ?

My ring,, it was my playmate; -what wouldn't I give to find it again 1 If I could have it for just one moment to wear on my hand, the things that I'd tell it! GENARO ESTRADA

era toda de plata mi sortija primera^ pero tanto valia como puede cualquiera. En el pozo se cayo una tarde. de la sacara ! j Ay mi, quien Sin duda quiso verse en el espejo negro que en el fondo del pozo lanzaba sus destellos; quiso mirar acaso su profundo misterio presentido en el agua por fugaces reflejos; pudo emocionarse al or nn 1 amento que stibio como el hllo de la queja de un eco

j Qoe diera por alcanzarla para volverla a llevar! jTortuga que estas adentro,

subela ! En el pozo se cayo una tarde*

de la ! 1 Ay mf^ quien sacara

mm

Od. ad Tyndarldem

PREFIHREM a su monte Liceo los aunos que solo sestean en Mallarme, un ameno agro del Lucretilo en donde los cliivos de barbas israelitas GENARO ESTRADA

It was all of silver? my very first ring., but as precious to me as any can be. It dropped. Into the well one evening. Oh dear ! Who'll get it out ?

I'm sure it tried to look in the black mirror that from the well-bottom its was lancing light ; or perhaps to watch its deep mystery foretold in the water by fleeting reflections ; or it may have been touched upon hearing a sigh that came up like the thread of an echoes lament.

What I'd give to find it, to "wear it again! You turtle down there,, bring it up ! It dropped into the well one evening. Oh dear! Who'll get it out?

JD. Z>.

OJF

Ode ad Tyr^arMem (&. /, Carm. 17

RATKER than their Mount Lychnis the fauns who only nap in Mallarme prefer a pleasant field near Lucretilis where Hebraically bearded goats

45* GENARO ESTRADA encuentran ventilador para el verano y paragnas para los cttubascos*

Las hembras Infieles al brincador marido vlenen libremente a ml bungalow,, al almuerzo de ensalada de tomillo, siempre desconfiando de hallarse invitados a la culebra de robe verde Patou y al lobo de milltares instintos,

del cafe el concierto oh. ! Despues j Tindaris

! dice su flauta El l lagarto-lagarto en un andante spianato del Notico,

dulce sentirse cuidado los dioses ! | Cuan por

! j Pledad y poesia me atraen su beneficio

Ya se ve la protecclon que te brinda la buena suerte de la loterfa, cuyas fanegas de rnafz te permiten la decadencla veraniega en Ostende y aun te dejan tus ratos libres para pulsar la cuerda Teia y cantar dos cosas a Penelope y a la calumniada hedhlcera Circe, ademas de catar un Lesbos de 1 60 anos antes de Jesucristo^ sin que el perturbador hijo de Semele te infunda irritadas empresas, ni el aspero Cyro el chismorreo, engreido por haberte levantado la mano, para ratearte la vegetal corona y tu gabardina muy sport* GENARO ESTRADA find summer ventilation and umbrellas for the showers.

The wives unfaithful to their bucking husband come freely to my bungalow, to my thyme salad luncheon, always apprehensive lest they find among the guests the snake with the Patou green frock and the wolf with a military urge.

After coffee comes the concert, O Tyndaris ! The "Ware-the snake! sings on his flute an Andante Spianat from the *Notic*.

How sweet to be looked after by the Gods S My piety and poetry procure me thek favour !

See now the protection thrust upon you by your good luck in that lottery whose bushels of grain permit you a summery decadence in Ostend and even leave you your free moments in which to pluck the Anacreontic strings and sing a selection or two for Penelope and that calumniated witch of a Circe, besides sampling a wine from Lesbos bottled in 160 B.C* without having Scmde*s rambunctious son inflaming you with ticklish projects, or brutish Cyrus promoting gossipy puffed up with having raised his hand to filch from you your vegetable crown and your sporty gabardine. D. D, w.

463 SILVINA OCAMPO

s fac&fczs

LAS olas y las algas y las los caracoles rotos y sonoros, la sal y el yodo? las tormentas raalas, los delfines inclertos y los coros de sirenas cansadas de cantar, no te reemplaxaran las tierras suaves donde vagabas con el quleto andar que aleja siempre a las profundas naves.

Palinuro : tu rostro claiisurado y maritlmo ofrece a la serena noche insomnios. Desnudo y acostado perpetuaras tus uiuertes en la arena, y creceran con distraccion de piedra tus unas y tu pelo entre la hiedra.

454. SILVINA OCAMPO

*nudu$ in ignatd* Paiinure? jaceMs haren&*

-wings the seaweed the waves,, the broken and sonorous shells* the salt foam when, the whirlwind raves, the flickering dolphins* the chorals

of sirens weary of their song these will not take the place of lands where once you 'wandered, peaceful^ strong to keep the deep ships from those strands.

Your maritime and cloistered face? "O Palinurus, teases night awake, But you in naked sleep

die ever in a sandy place : your living nails and hair will creep, senseless as stone^ through ivy bright^ IX F. RAFAEL MAYA

JLJBJTOS

^ Job muerte! Coge la flor abierta de mis anos. No dejes que envejezca. Ven pronto, Rompe la hellce roja de mi ambicioso corazon en pleno volar sobre los curves hiorizontes* Paraliza mis brazos que hunden el remo en las doradas aguas del tletapo. Ata mis plantas manctiadas con la sangre del racimo carnal. Apaga el ritmo de mis arterias cuyo golpe Mere, en la noche de insomnio^ mis oidos con un rumor de agua stibterranea. Fajame con tn venda como a un nifioy y entxegame a los brazos de la oscura nodriza que alimenta las avidas rafces de los arboles. No ver la luz., no ver la luz creadora que saca de su abismo inagotable las infinitas formas de la vida, No atisbar el espacio que se puede beber con la mirada como una copa azul Ilena de espumas, No ver un rostro humano ni oir una palabra. ^ {oh muerte! 456 RAFAEL MAYA

WOUND mGj O Death ! Gather the open flower of my years. Let it not age. Come soon. Break the crimson coil of my ambitious heart in full flight over the curved horizons* Paralyze my arms that dip the oar in the golden waters of time. And bind my feet stained with the blood of the carnal grape-cluster. Quench the rhythm of my arteries whose beat wounds,, in the sleepless night^ my cars with a rumour of underground water* Bandage me like a child., and deliver me to the arms of the dark wet-nurse who suckles the hungry roots of the trees. Not to see the light, the creative light that draws from its inexhaustible depths the infinite forms of life. Not to stare into space potable to the gaze like a blue cup full of foam. Never to see a human face, never to hear a wordL Wound me, O Death. RAFAEL MAYA

Ni el dulce mar em que naufiragan tantas rlquezasj y que guarda entre sus aguas fabulosas ciudades5 hundidas como funebres navios con sus copas de oro y sus leciios cargados de mujeres. ISfi el mismo cielo eterno que sustenta la arqultectura movil de las nubes, y traza la remota geometria de las constelaciones raisterlosas. Ni el cuerpo adolescente de una doncella, apenas sombreado en sus pliegues reconditos por una vegetacion de suave terclopelo. Nada podra ligarme a la ribera terrestre.

Ven ! oil muerte !

Quiero bajar lo$ humedos peldafios, afelpados de musgo, de la estrecha galeria que lleva hasta tu cripta donde espera la esfinge somnollenta coronada de rosas inmortales. Allf, al fulgor de las marchitas lamparas que filtran una aurora penumbrosa a traves de los grises alabastros5 repasare la escena multlforme de mi vida, los rostros conocldos, y la iraagen dorada de unos campos que florecen aun ? bajo otros cielos^ perdidos en el tiempo y la memorla. RAFAEL MAYA

sea Neither the gentle ? wrecker of many riches^ keeping beneath, its waters fabulous cities drowned, like funeral vessels with their cups of gold and their couches laden with women. Nor the same sky forever that sustains clouds* mobile architecture* tracing the distant measure of mysterious constellations, Nor the adolescent body of a young girl ? just shaded along its hidden creases by a soft velvet down. Nothing can bind me to this shore of earth.

Come^O Death!

I would descend the dank stairs,, carpeted with moss, of the narrow gallery that leads to your crypt where the drowsy sphynic is waiting crowned 'with immortal roses. There, in the glimmer of the fading- lamps that filter a shadowy dawn through the grey alabaster? I will review the multiple scene of my life, the faces known^ the golden image of certain fields still blooming* under other skies^ lost in time and memory. H. H.

450 DURACINE VAVAL

XJES

NE pouzrais-jc, poor t'enivrer du vin des choses, T'offrir un bouquet pale oil defaillent des roses ? Tin poeme qui plait par ses rythmes egaux ? Or, je t'envoie une corbeille de mangos.

Le desir pend a leur chair blonde, ardernment blonde, La saveur du terroir s'y revele profonde. Leur tenebreux parfum de camphre ou de muscat S'infiltre jusqu'en 1'ame a travers Fodorat.

Et ces mangos de miel qui pavoissaient la hale, Us sentent Fombre noire, ils sentent le soleil, Us sentent une haleine enamourante et vraie,

Dans le verger qui saigne en son manteau vermeil La mangue couleur d*or passe en douceur premiere Nos fruits royaux gorges de seve et de lumiere !

4^60 DURACINE VAVAL

MANWE&

To intoxicate you with the wine of things^ Might I not offer you a pale bouquet where roses fail ? A poem pleasing in its even rhythms ? I send you then a basket full of mangoes.

Desire clings to their yellow tawny flesh. The savour of the soil lies deep within them. Their dusky tang of camphor or of muscatel Filters scent-borne into the very soul.

that And these mangoes, honey-sweeta decked the hedge^ They are fragrant with black shadow, with the smij Fragrant with a true and love-provoking breath.

In the orchard that bleeds in its vermilion cloak The golden mango surpasses in prime sweetness Our royal fruits swollen with juice and light!

Z>. D. W. GERMAN PARDG GARCIA

JBJL

SENT quc algo hacla el silenclo de la muerte, descendia. Algo profundos y tan mio^ como lo es mi sangre misma, Tuve pavor de estar vivo*, y de hallarme en agonia ; y en aquel instante inmenso de negaclon infinlta? al pechto lieve las manos^ por saber lo que perdia. Pero Halle mi fuerza intacta y mi voluntad actlva; y ardieodo en sus soledades como entre llamas divinas^ mi corazon traspasado por siete espadas de vida.

NAI>A de ti. Xu ser es semejante a un jardin clausnrado que visita por las tardes el anima infinita, inmersa en IDS silencios del instante.

Tremulas hojas, vlento delirante linyen por el jardin en que gravita como una pena abscondita y maldita5 clavada en la souibra sollozante. GERMAN PARDO GARCIA

that an essence., close to the silence of death^ came clown ; something profound, and mine as much as my very blood. I was afraid to live-, to find myself in anguish ; and in that monstrous moment of infinite denial I raised my hands to my breast to realize my loss. But I found my strength unbroken* my ^will I found alive; and burning in solitude, as among heavenly flames* I found my heart transfixed with seven swords of life.

from you at all. Your being seems a cloistered garden where, in the afternoon^ an infinite presence is a haunting guest, deep in the moment's utter silences,

The leaves tremble. They and the crazy wind flee through the garden where the spirit rests like an affliction* Mdden and accursed,, fastened for ever in the sobbing shade.

GERMAN PARDO GARCIA

And now and then the slanting western sun velvets the blue majestic cypresses over whose crest a wing hangs motionless, all outcry null and muffled in the mist; and bitterness flows toward oblivion upon the peace of the tremendous heart. R.H. JOSE MARIA EGUREN

JLA WJWA mm K*A

EN el pasadizo nebuloso cual magico suerio de Estambul, so perfil presenta destelloso la niiia de la lampara azuL

Agil y risuena se insinlia^ y su llama seductora brilla* tiembla en su cabello la gartia de la playa de la maravilla.

Con voz infantll y meiodiosa en fresco aroma de abedul? tabla de una vlda mllagrosa la xiina de la lampara azuL

Con calidos ojos de dulzura y l>esos de amor matutino, me ofrece la bella crlatura un magico y celeste camino.

' De encantacion en tin derrochej htlcnde leda^ vaporoso tul; y me guia a traves de la noche la niiia de la lampara azul.

la orllla contemplo suaves, llgeras, con sus penachos finos3 las caiiaveras*

4,66 JOSE MARIA EGURE2ST

CflMJL WITH 3TBTJ3

IN the shadowy passageway, like a magical dream of Stambul^ she turns her sparkling profile., the girl with the blue lamp.

Lithe and smiling she glides,, her enticing flame burns bright; on her hair trembles the spray from the shores of wonder.

With a childlike melodious voice in a fresh scent of birch she speaks of a miraculous life, the girl with the blue lamp,

"With eyes warm with sweetness and kisses of morning love the fair creature shows me a magical^ heavenly road.

Lavish with incantation* she splits gaily the cloudy veil; and she lights me through the night,, the girl with the blue lamp, JD. U. W.

the shore I watch, light in the wind, -with their delicate tufts,, the reeds. JOSE MARIA EGUREN

Las totoras caidas, de core pintadas^ el verde musgo adornan Iluminadas.

Campanillas presentan su dulce poma que licores destila de fino aroma.

En pare j as discurren verdes alclones^ cpie descienden y buscan los camarones.

Alii, gratos se adueruien los guarangales^ y por la sombra juegan los recentales.

Ora Yes largas alas? cabezas brunas de las garzas que vienen de las lagunas.

Y las almas campestres, con grande anhelo^ en la espuma rosada miran $u cielo*

Mientras oyen que cn*~ Tc tras los canares, la canclon fugitiva de esos lugares.

4,68 JOSE MARIA EGUREN

The fallen cat-tails., painted with ochre^ adorn the green moss glowing,

Bellflowers offer their sweet pods distilling liquors of fine bouquet.

In pairs By green kingfishers that come down* hunting for shrimp,

There, slumber the pleasant acacia fields* and in the shade young animals play*

Now you see long wings,, dark brown head% of the herons that come from the lagoons.

And the country folk, with great eagerness, in the rosy foam watch their sky.

"While they hear swelling beyond the cane stalks the fleeting song of those places. IX IX W, JOSE MARIA EGURElSf

V

LA cancioii del adormido cielo dejo dulces pesares ; yo quislem dar vlda a esa canclon que tiene tanto de ti. Ha caido la tarde sobre el musgo del cerco ingles^ con aire de otro t: ripo musical. El mnrmurio de la ultima fiesta ha dejado colores tristes y suaves cual de primaveras obscuras y listones perlinos. Y las dolidas BOtas han traldo melancolia de las sombras galantes al dar sus adioses sobre la playa. La celestia de tus ojos dulces tiene un pesar de canto que el alma nunca olvidara. El angel de los suenos te ha besado para dejarte amor sentido y musical y cuyos sones de tristeza llegan al alma mia, como celestes miradas en esta niebla de profonda soledad.

I Es la cancion simbolica como un jazmin de sueno,, que tuviera tus ojos y tu corazon I j Yo quisiera dar vida a esta cancion!

4.70 JOSE MARIA EGUREN

JLHBJD V

THE song of the drowsy sky left gentle regrets; I would give life to that song which has in it so much of you. Night has fallen over the moss of the English wall as though an air in music had changed its tempo. The murmur of the last festival has left sad, soft colours as of dark springtimes and pearl-grey ribbons. And the mournful notes have grown melancholy from the shadows of lovers saying goodbye on the beach, The blue of your soft eyes has a songlike grief that the heart will never forget. The angel of dream has kissed you to leave with you a love felt like music whose strains of sadness reach my heart* like heavenly glances in this mist of deep solitude. The song is symbolic as a jasmine in dreams^ with your eyes and your heart! I would give life to this song! D. D. W,

47* FRANCISCO LOPEZ MERINO

CANCXON

Tu quc cada domlngo vas al Jardin Botanlco y te pasas las Iioras, callada, contemplando los matices suntuosos de las Sores que nunca tcndrds en tu pequeno huerto, Tu que preguntas cosas alucinantes con palabras senclllas y el amblente fantastico de tus sueiios me explicas. Tu que amas como un nlno las liojas de la menta por los recuerdos limplos que su aroma desplerta. Tfi que hablas del esmalte reluclente que tienen los Insectos exoticos que en el aire florecen. Tu que narras la vida de Juan Jacobo y sabes que bajo un clelo claro corto hierbas,, de tarde. Tu que vistes de bianco para el Mes de Maria y pueblas el silencio de imagenes pacificas, porque fuiste mi novia pondras en mi sepulcro, lilas cuando me muera3 de un resplandor oscuro.

MIS PRIMAS9 JLOS

Mis primas, los domingosj, vlenen a cortar rosas y a pedirme algiin libro de versos en frances. Caminan sobre el cesped del jardin, cortan fibres, y se van de la mano de Musset o Samaln.

AmaB las frases bellas y las mananas claras. Una estatua impasible las puede conmover. Esperan la llegada de las tardes de otono porque^ tras los cristales, todo de oro se ve , . FRANCISCO LOPEZ MERINO

SONG WOm AFTJEMWAJIIIS

You who go every Sunday to the Botanical Garden and while away hours in silence, contemplating the sumptuous colourings of flowers that you will never have In your own little garden; you who ask fascinating things so Ingenuously and explain to me the fantastic ambient of your dreams; you who love like a child the leaves of the mint for the clean memories that Its scent awakens; you who talk about the glittering enamels of exotic Insects that blossom In the air; you who tell the life of Jean-Jacques, and know cuts herbs at close of that under a clear sky he day ; you who dress in white for the Month of Mary and people the silence with images of peace: were beloved will on tomb because you my you lay my 5 I lilacs of when am dead 5 dark splendour.

JR. O'C.

MY COUSIUfS, ON SCNDAYS * . .

MY cousins* on Sundays, come to cut roses and to ask me for some book of verses in French, They move about the garden lawn, cutting flowers^ straight from the pages of Musset or Samain.

They love pretty phrases and clear bright mornings. An imperturbable statue can thrill them through and through. They are waiting for the coming of the autumn evenings because through the window-panes everything looks gold . . .

475 FRANCISCO LOPEZ MERINO

Y vlenen, los domingos^ cortar rosas Saben que el eco de sus voces para mi grato cs. Entre las hojas quedan sus rlsas armoniosas; ellas seguramente se rien sin saber.

llueve no vlenen. Dulcemente Mis primas, cuando ? aparto los capullos que el viento hara caer; hago un ramo con ellos y pongo bajo el ramo un volumen de versos de Musset o Samain.

474 FRANCISCO LOPEZ MERINO

And they come to cut roses on Sundays . . . They know that the echo of their voices is pleasing to me. Among the petals they leave their harmonious laughter; surely they are laughing unaware.

My cousins, when it rains, do not come. Sweetly I bring away whatever buds the wind has blown down; I make a bouquet with them, and place beneath the bouquet a volume of poems by Musset or Samain. R. O'C.

475 RAFAEL ALBERTO ARRIETA

f1VEKO

NOCHOE de enerOj quieta y luminosa, junto al ro? entre piedras^ y a tu lado, mi corazon maduro para la maravllla y el milagro,

Si una estrella cayese tenderia mi mano . * .

43 RAFAEL ALBERTO ARRIETA

JANUARY night, quiet and luminous, near the river, among the rocks? at your side, cay heart ripe for marvel and miracle.

If a star fell, I should hold out my hand . , . M. l^.

4*77 EMILIO VASQUEZ

MMMEJLA

ESTB es el poema del amor rural desde la naclente del agua aquella perdida tarde me alumbraron de locura tus ojos

En tambor de gritos sc ha trocado mi pecho veterano fustina estoy pasteando centinela sankayus kantutas para tu alma

Voy a engendrar una noeva warav^ara con flores de agua para el da rosado de nuestros besos

Entonces en tos labios danzaran todas las alboradas

Asldos pasaremos saltando el rio al pastaje de nuestros suefios. EMILIO VASQUEZ

1WDIA1V OMHJL

THIS Is the poem of rustic love from the source of the waters on that lost afternoon your eyes inflamed me with madness

My old campaigner's breast has become a pounding drum

Justina I am shepherding zealously wild berries and red flowers for your soul

I will bring to life a new star made of water lilies for the day blushing with our kisses

Then upon your lips all the dawns shall dance

Hand in hand we shall leap across the river to the pastures of our dreams.

B. . C.

479 LUIS FABIO XAMMAR

JE7JL

TE seguire hasta el puquial, cliollta, aunque no lo quieras.

Me dejaras que abandone tu tinaja en una pledra.

Que cante para ti sola un huaynito de mi tierra-

Que el agua mojc tu pie.

Que se escapen tus borregas,

Y sobre todo cholita me dejaras que te expllque como se quiere en la hlerba*

480 LUIS FABIO XAMMAR

SJPJRUHVG

I'LL follow you down to the spring, to. cholitay although you don't "want me

You will let me abandon your water-jar on a stone.

May a thrush from my country sing for you alone.

May the water wet your foot.

May your lambkins run away.

And above all, cholita^ you will let me teach you how much fun we can have in the grass.

481 ILDEFONSQ PEREDA VALDES

CA2VC1&V A UI

, ningfa.e? ninghe^ tan clnquito^ el negrito que no quiere dormir. Cabeza de coco, grano de cafe, con lindas motitas con ojos grandotes como dos ventanas que miran al mar- Cierra esos ojltos negrito asustado el mandinga bianco te puede coiner.

Ya no eres esclavo ! y si duermes mucho, el seno de casa promete complar traje con botones para ser un groom. Ninghe, ninglie, ninghe^ duermete negrito

cabeza de coco5 grano de cafe.

482 ILDEFONSO PEREDA VALDES

SONG TO FC/T A NEGMO BABY TO

PICKANINNY, ninny, ninny, so tiny the little black baby that won't go to sleep. Coconut head, coffee berry, with pretty little specks, and great big eyes like two windows that look at the sea.

Close those eyes, scared black baby, the white bogey-man might eat you up. You are no slave now! and if you sleep sound, the boss of the house promises to buy you a suit with buttons to be a groom. Pickaninny, ninny, ninny, sleep, black baby, coconut head, coffee berry. M.L.

483 PEDRO JUAN VIGNALE

EX

ANGELINA, tu coses., y tu que bordas, Juana, y tu Gabriel, que sabes hacer de carpintero, unas el atavio y el otro la peana, haced que resucite este buen caballero.

Con su corcel, muriose en batalla campal y i quien le despintara las botas y el jubon sino el Gran Capitan, el capitan de barbas azules y dorado galon ?

El tenia la cara toda rosa5 y tema una novia: Maria. Y tambien tenia una casa y un huerto el granadero muerto,

Durante los descansos cuidaba las gallinas^ los patos y los gansos, y curaba el jamon y el tocino.

Le decia a su madre: 'Esto anda bien, mama . . .* Y tomaba su copa de vino.

Pero he aqui que ahora el caballito overo y el buen granadero en un rincon, en un rincon estan3 todos empolvadosj con telaraiias ya . * *

484 PEDRO JUAN VIGNALE

THE BEAD

ANGELINA, you who know how to sew, and you who em- broider, Jane, and you, Gabriel, who have the builder's skill : let his finery be the girls' task; his broken pedestal, the boy's bring back to life this brave horseman.

With his charger he died on the field of battle ! And who could have taken the colour from his boots and his doublet but the Great Captain, the bluebearded goldbraided Captain ?

His whole face was ruddy, and he had

a betrothed : Mary. And he had a house, too, and an orchard, the dead grenadier.

Whenever he was on leave, he would tend to his hens, his ducks, and his geese, and cure his ham and bacon,

He would say to his mother, Things are going fine,

mamma . . .

And drink his glass of wine.

But see: the little brindled horse and the brave grenadier are in a corner, lying in a comer,

all dusty and covered with cobwebs now . * .

485 PEDRO JUAN VIGNALE

ellos De iiocfa.e? los ratones pasan por sobre con sus pasos menudos y sus cuerpos de estaiio. I Quien no tta oido en la noche suspirar al granadero ? I Quien no lia oido el bufido ronco de su caballo ?

Cuando la luna entra e iluniina el altillo el buen granadero se siente remozar . . . el Ve su madre5 la huerta., el peral y membrillo, oye para el almnerzo afilar el cucliillo y con Maria se qulslera casar.

Angelina^ tu coses, y tu que bordas, y tii Gabriel, que sabes hacer de carpintero, unas el atavio y el otro la peana, haced que resuciten caballo y caballero.

486 At night the mice run over them with their tiny feet and their tin-coloured bodies. Who hasn't heard the grenadier sighing in the night? Who hasn't heard the harsh snorting of his horse ?

When the moon shines in and lights up the attic,

the brave grenadier feels like a boy again . . . He sees his mother, the garden, the pear tree, and the quince, he hears the knife being sharpened for lunch, and would like to be married to Mary.

Angelina, you who know how to sew, and you who em- broider, Jane, and you, Gabriel, who have the builder's skill: let his finery be the girls' task; his broken pedestal, the boy's bring back to life the horse and horseman. D. D. w.

487 MARTIN ADAN

TTJS ojos unen las manos como las Madonnas de Leonardo,

Los bosques de ocaso, las frondas moradas de un renacimiento sombrio,

El rebano del mar bala a la grata del cielo lleno de angeles.

Dios se encarna en un nifio que busca los juguetes de tus manos.

Tus labios dan el calor qne niegan la vaca y el asno.

Y en la penumbra, tu cabellera mulle sus pajas para el Dios nino. MARTIN ADAN

YOUR eyes join hands like the Madonnas of Leonardo,

The groves of sunset, purple foliage of a shadowy Renaissance.

The flock of the sea bleats at the cavern of a sky full of angels.

God is made flesh in a child that gropes for the toys of your hands.

Your lips give the warmth denied by cow and ass.

And in the half light your hair spreads its straw for the Infant God.

48 JUANA DE IBARBOUROU

NOCWE mm EJLffflA

LUCJEVB . . . y espera, no te duermas 3 Quedate atento a lo que dice el viento Y a lo que dice el agua que golpea Con sus dedos menudos en los vidrios.

Todo mi corazon se vuelve oidos Para escuchar a la hechizada hermana, Que ha dormido en el cielo, Que ha visto el sol de cerca, Y baja ahora, elastica y alegre, De la mano del viento^ Igual que una viajera Que torna de un pais de maravilla*

I Como estara de alegre el trigo ondeante !

I Con que avidez se esponjara la hierba ! j Cuantos diamantes colgaran ahora

Del ramaje profundo de los pinos !

Espera, no te duermas. Escuchemos El rltmo de la lluvia. Apoya entre mis senos Tu frente taciturna. Yo sentire el latir de tus dos sienes, Palpitantes y tibias., Tal cual si fueran dos martillos vivos Que golpearan mi carne. JUANA DE IBARBOUROU

IT is raining . . . Wait, do not sleep. Listen to what the wind is saying And to what the water says tapping "With little fingers upon the window-panes.

All my heart is listening To hear the enchanted sister WTio has slept in the sky, Who has seen the sun close by. And now comes down, buoyant and gay, Holding the wind's hand Like a traveler returning From a marvelous land.

How gay the waving -wheat will be ! How eagerly the grass will thrive ! What diamonds will cluster now In the deep branches of the pines!

let us listen Wait, do not sleep ; but To the rhythm of the rain. Cradle between my breasts Your silent forehead. I will feel the beating of your temples Palpitant and warm Just as if they were two living hammers Striking upon my flesh. JUANA DE IBARBOUROU

Espera, no te duermas. Esta noche Somos los dos un mundo, Alslado por el viento y par la lluvia Entre las cuencas tibias de una alcoba.

Espera, no te duermas. Esta noche Somos acaso la raiz suprema De donde debe germinar maSana El tronco bello de una raza nueva. JUANA DE IBARBOUROU

'Wait., do not sleep. Tonight The two of us are a world^ Isolated by -wind and rain In the warmth o a bedroom.

tj do not sleep ; tonight we Perhaps., that root that goes deep down, From which tomorrow there will spring The lovely stock^ the race to come. R.H. RAFAEL HELIODORO VALLE

Para Ricardo AreTioIes

CREO en la Idea todopoderosa que da el laurel a la melena endrina y que en la Tlerra Santa de la Espina eleva su Jerusalen la Rosa*

Y en la dladema crisoelefantina que en la cabeza lugubre reposa, y en el viento^ que es de la golondrina, y en el jardin^ que es de la mariposa.

Creo que la neblina en la tormenta arde en el ritxno puro y lo ilurniiia. La noche es como un anfora sedienta en que fulguran gemas silenclosas Creo en la noche y creo en la neblina. I Mi corazon ? Lo que yo tengo es rosas.

404 RAFAEL HELIODORO VALLE

For Ricardo

I BELIEVE in the omnipotent idea which bestows the laurel on sloe-black locks, and which in the thorn's Holy Land lifts up its Jerusalem the Rose.

In the chryselephantine crown which lies upon the brow that sadness hollows; and in the wind which is the swallows*, and the garden that is the butterflies*.

I believe that mist amid storm is a bright flame in the pure rhythm which it discloses. Night is an amphora athirst where silent gems into radiance burst . . , I believe in the mist, I believe in the night. My heart ? What I bear in my breast is roses, M.L.

4-95 RAFAEL AREVALO MARTINEZ

IS0JPA MJLMPEA.

LE bese la mano y olia a jabon: yo lleve la mia contra el corazon.

Le bese la mano breve y delicada y la boca mia quedo perfumada.

Mudbachlta limpla, qulen a ti se atreva, que como tus manos huela a ropa nueva.

Bese sus cabellos de crencha ondulada:

jsi tambien olian a ropa lavada!

I A que linfa llevas tu cuerpo y tu ropa ? I En qne fuente pura te lavas la cara ?

si Muchachita Iimpia3 eres una copa llena de agua clara.

496 RAFAEL AREVALO MARTINEZ

CLEAN CL&TME&

I KISSED her hand and It smelt of soap: I laid my own against my heart,

I kissed her short and delicate hand and my mouth was left fragrant.

Clean little girl, whoever dares approach you should^ like your hands, smell of fresh clothes.

I kissed her hair where the waves parted : and they too smelt of laundered clothes!

To what waters do you take your body and your clothing ? In what pure spring do you bathe your face ?

Clean little girl, you are just like a goblet full of clear water. M.L,

497 YOLANDA BEDREGAL DE CONITZER

mi

en rectangulo de sombras como de una ventana en el vacio mi cara adolescente me contempla.

Viene de lejos la mirada llmpia bajo el ala extendida de las cejas en clara catedral de la esperanza y se arrodilla, ritmica, en los labios.

Limpia mirada en la que cae el mundo, redonda como gota de rocio. . .

Yo me miro distante en esa imagen de flor que va cuajando prlmavera: mejillas de pelusa de durazno, un hoyuelo infantil como si un angel tubiera hundido un dedo pequenito. En el tallo del cuello la promesa dormida de las venas que se Inician, del dlmlmito pie a las manos finas ; pallde^ matinal bajo la noche partida en dos de relucientes trenzas.

Cinco afios esta inmovil esa imagen mirando en la ventana del vacio,

Mientras tanto Ilovieron muchas lagrimas, cinceles en la pulpa de la vida. Es todavia flor mi cara joven, pero de norte a sur, de este a oeste tormenta en primavera liirio mi frente. 498 YOLANDA BEDREGAL DE CONITZER

jwnr

FRAMED in its shadow-rectangle a window open upon empty space my adolescent face confronts me.

From, far off comes that limpid gaz,e beneath the brows* extended wing in a cathedral of cloudless hope, and kneels down, lilting, upon the lips.

Clear gaze in which the world descends, round as a drop of dew

I contemplate myself afar within that flower-image embellishing the spring : cheeks of peach down, a baby dimple as though an angel had thrust in a tiny finger. In the stem of the neck a dormant promise of budding veins, from little foot to dainty hands ; a morning pallor beneath a night falling in two shining braids.

For five years that unmoving image has watched there in the window of emptiness.

Meanwhile how many tears have fallen,, scoring the living flesh! My youthful face is still a flower ; but from north to south, from east to west, an April storm has beaten upon my brow. 4.99 YOLANDA BEDREGAL DE CONITZER

En la mistica boca arrodillada desangro el beso la evidencia Humana.

Mis pies danzaron, y mis manos saben las formas de la arcilla atormentada. En mi cuello bailaron las palabras dc latigaxo y de caricia.

Una ausencia, una muerte y una vida desdibujaron el retrato antiguo.

Estoy ahora como he sido siempre y como nunca mas habre de ser, Estaba escrito todo en lioja blanca. Recien aprendo a leer mi adolescencia, y he de aprender a leer toda mi vida cuandoy como hoy me miro en el retrato, pueda iin dia mirarme desde el marco sereno? inmarcesible de la muerte.

500 YOLANDA BEDREGAL DE CONITZER

The kiss upon the mystic kneeling mouth has been bled white by mortal evidence.

My feet have danced, and my hands have known the contours of tormented clay. Words that lash, words that caress, have danced within my throat.

An absence, a death, and a life have blurred the ancient portrait.

Now I am as I have always been and as I shall never be again. It was all written on the empty page. I have just learned to read my youth, and I shall learn to read my whole life when, just as today I stare back at my portrait, I shall one day look out upon myself from the calm, and fadeless picture-frame of death.

D. D. w.

501 EMILE ROUMER

MAEABOUT de man cceur, aux seins de mandarine, tu m'es plus savoureux que crabe en aubergine, tu es mon afiba dedans mon calalou, le doumbreuil de mon pois, mon the de zerbe a clou. Tu es le boeuf sale dont mon coeur est la douane, Faccasan au sirop qui coule en ma gargoine. es Tu un plat fumant? diondion avec du riz, des acras croustillants et des thazars bien frits . . Ma fringale d^amour te suit ou que tu ailles. Ta fesse est un boumba charge de victuailles.

502 EMILE ROUMER

THE? PEASANT RECLAMES MIS

HIGH-YELLOW of my heart, with, breasts like tangerines, you taste better to me than eggplant stuffed with crab, you are the tripe in my pepper-pot, the dumpling in my peas, my tea of aromatic herbs. You are the corned beef whose customhouse is my heart, my mush with syrup that trickles down the throat. You are a steaming dish, mushroom cooked with rice, crisp potato fries, and little fish fried brown . . . My hankering for love follows you wherever you go . Your bum is a gorgeous basket brimming with fruits and meat. J P.B.

5<>3 LUIS CANE

OKACION mm CABA

DEBO culdar este dia en salud, en amor y en alegria, como de un hermano menor cuya suerte se me conffa.

MI pensamlento debera ser puro, noble mi sentimiento, mis ideas serenas, mis palabras cordiales y buenas y mi brazo acogedor y seguro.

Como dentro de cada brote esta contenida la Primavera, cada hombre tiene en su espiritu la manera de ernbellecer la vida.

Malgastar una hora

en un mal pensamiento? en una mala accion, es dilapidar la riqueza que atesora el corazon.

Debo cuidar este dia para que mi vida sea bella como la alegria de una doncella.

504 LUIS CANE

JFOK JEACm AWAJBO5IVIJV

I MUST watch over this day, in health, in love and in joy, as though it were a younger brother whose fate is in my hands.

My thinking must be pure, my perceptions exalted, my ideas composed, my words sound and from the heart, and my arm welcoming and sure,

Just as each bud encloses Spring, so in his soul each man holds the secret of beautifying life.

To waste an hour in a bad thought, a base action, is to destroy the riches stored up by the heart.

I must watch over this day so that my life will be as fair as the merriment of a young girl. D.F. 505 CONRADO NALE ROXLO

EL bosqoe se duerme y suena? el rio no duerme, canta. Por entre las sombras verdes el agua sonora pasa dejando en la orilla oscura manojos de espuma blanca. Llenos los ojos de estrellas, en el frondo de una barca., yo voy como una emocion per la muslca del agua, y llevo el rio en los labios, y llevo el bosque en el alma.

LA partida de mi vlda juego con tanta pereza que perdere la partida por no mover una pieza. g Que me levante ? Que saiga en busca del vellocino ? No hay vellocino que valga las fatigas del camino.

506 CONRADO NALE ROXLO

THE forest falls asleep and dreams, the river does not sleep, but sings. Among the green shadows the ringing 'water flows leaving on the dark bank flecks of white foam. My eyes filled with stars, on the bottom of a boat, I pass like an emotion over the music of the water, and I bear the river on my lips, and I bear the forest in my soul. M. B. D.

TMJE

AT the game which is my life I play with such sloth that I shall lose the game for not moving a pawn.

I should get up ? I should go to seek the Golden Fleece ? There is no Fleece that is worth the weariness of the road.

M. B. D. 507 CONRADO NALE ROXLO

SEMOR nunca me des lo que te pida. Me encanta lo imprevisto, lo que baja de tus rubias estrellas; que la vlda me presente de golpe la baraja contra que he de jugar. Qulero el asombro de Ir silencioso per .mi calle oscura, sentir que me golpean en el liombro-, volvernxe,, y ver la faz de la aventura.

Quiero Ignorar en donde y de que modo encontrare la muerte. Sorprendlda^ sepa el alma a la vuelta de un recodo, que un paso atras se le quedo la vida. CONRADO MALE ROXLO

LORD never grant me what I ask for* The unforeseen delights me, what comes down from your fair stars ; let life deal out before me all at once the cards against which I must play, I want the shock of going silently along my dark street^ feeling that I am tapped upon the shoulder, turning about, and seeing the face of adventure*

I do not want to know where and how I shall meet death. Caught unaware, may my soul learn at the turn of a corner that one step back it still lived. M. B. D,

509 CARMEN ALICIA CADILLA

RESPOISTSOS por el alma del reloj muerto.

Santa Maria . . .

Media cniz solamente pudleron hacer sus dedos.

Paraliticas qiaedaron en su pobre cara livida, las tres de la madrugada.

Padre ISTuestro que estas con el alma de mi reloj- en los cielos . . .

EL aire es triste a veces, Tan triste que imagine que E>ios duerme y olvida. CARMEN ALICIA CATHLLA

EJESPONSORIES for the soul of the dead clock* Holy Mary . .

Only half a cross could its fingers make*

Paralytic they stopped on its poor livid face, three o'clock in the morning.

Our Father, tuho art with the soul of my clock in Heaven . . * D.F.

AIR

AT times the air is sad, So sad that I fancy God is sleeping, unaware, ZXF. CARMEN ALICIA CADILLA

Ojo de piedra. Lagrima de bronce. Lagrima sonora quc se dilnye como mid de sonido en la campina.

Angelus. Gracla de Dies, Hisopo musical que bendice todo lo que acaricia.

Anciano campanario. ^Relicario de siglos devotos colgado al pecho de la tarde ungida de inocencia.

Tarde. Primera comulgante arrebolada en goce de iniciacion suprema. CARMEN ALICIA CADILLA

of stone. Tear of bronze. Resonant tear melting like Honey of sound in the fields.

Angelus, Grace of God, Musical aspergillum that blesses all it caresses.

Ancient belfry. Shrine of devout ages adorning the breast of the evening anointed with innocence.

Evening. First communicant rosy with the joy of supreme initiation. />. F.

5*3 ALFONSINA STORNI

SE balancea^ arriba, sobre el cuello^ el mundo de las slete puertas : la humana cabeza

Redonda., come las planetas : arde en sn centre el nucleo primero. O sea, la corteza; sobre ella el limo dermico sembrado del bosque espeso de la cabellera. Desde el nucleo, en mareas absolutas y azules., asciende el agna de la mirada y abre las suaves puertas de los ojos como mares en la tlerra. ... tan quletas esas mansas aguas de Dlos qxie sobre ellas marlposas, insectos de oro se balancean.

Y las otras dos puertas : las antenas acurnicadas en las catacumbas que inician las ore] as; pozos de sonidos., caracoles de nacar donde resuena

5*4* ALFONSINA STORNI

WOKLD OJF TMm SEVEN WEULS

THERE sways, up there, upon the neck,

the world of the seven doors ;

the human head . . .

Round, like the planets : at its centre burns the primal nucleus, which is the shell; over it the dermic slime sown with the deep forest of the hair* From the nucleus, in tides, limitless and blue, the rising waters of sight open the soft doors of the eyes, like seas upon the land. ... so still, those calm waters of God, that over them butterflies and golden insects hover.

And the other two doors: the antennae huddled

in the catacombs that lead in from the ears ; wells of sound, pearly shells where echo

5*5 ALFONSINA STORNI la palabra cxpresada y la no expresa; tnbos colocados a derecha e izqtilerda para que el mar no calie nunca, y el ala mecanica de los mundos mmorosa sea,

Y la montana alzada sobre la linea ectiatorlal de la cabeza: la nariz de batientes de cera por donde coraienza a calarse el color de la vida; las dos puertas por donde adelanta fiores, ramas y fmtas la serpentina olorosa de la primavera.

Y el crater de la boca de bordes ardidos y paredes calcinadas y resecas ; el crater qiae arroja el aziifre de las palabras vlolentas^ el humo denso que viene del corazon y su tormenta; la pnerta en corales labrada suntuosos por donde engulle., la bestia, y el angel canta y sonrie y el volcan hnmano desconcierta.

Se balancea, arriba, sobre el cuello, el mundo de los slete pozos : la humana cabeza. ALFONSINA STORNI the word expressed and the unexpressed; tubes placed to right and left that the sea may never be hushed, and that the mechanical pavilion of the worlds may be filled with murmurs.

And the mountain rising on the head's equatorial line: the nose with waxen portals through which begins to penetrate life's colour; the two doors through which advances flowers, boughs and fruits the fragrant coil of Spring.

And the crater of the mouth with burning edges and calcined desiccated walls; the crater casting forth sulphur of wrangling words, dense smoke proceeding from the heart and its agony; that door, coral-carved most sumptuous, through which the beast gobbles, the angel sings and smiles, and the human volcano pours out confusion.

There sways, up there, upon the neck, the world of the seven wells : the human head.

517 ALFONSINA STORNI

Y se abren praderas rosadas en BUS valles de seda : las mejillas musgosas. Y ricla sobre la coraba de la frente, desierto bianco, la luz lejana de una luna muerta , . .

A2VCJESTJRL4JL

TTJ me dijiste: no lloro mi padre; Tu me dijiste: no lloro mi abuelo; No Kan llorado los hombres de mi raza; Eran de acero.

Asf diciendo, te broto una lagrima Y me cayo en la boca . , . Mas veneno Yo no he bebido nunca en otro vaso Asi peqneno.

Debil miijer^ pobre mujer que entiende, Dolor de siglos conoci al beberlo : }Oh, el alma mia soportar no puede Todo su peso !

MM

AQTJI descanso yo: dice Alfonsina, En epitafio claro, al que se inclkia*

Aqm descanso yo, y en este pozo, Pues que no siento, me solazo y gozo.

Los turbios ojos muertos ya no giran; Los labios, desgranados, no suspiran. ALFONSINA STORNI

And rosy meadows unfold in its silken valleys : the mossy cheeks* And on the buttressed brow glimmers a white desert, the distant light of a lifeless moon . . . D. D. W.

You told me; My father did not weep;

: did not You told me My grandfather weep ; They have never wept, the men of my race; They were of steeL

Speaking thus, a tear welled from you And fell upon my mouth More venom Have I never drunk from any other glass As small as that.

Weak woman, poor woman who understands, Sorrow of centuries I knew in the drinking of it : Ah, this soul of mine can not support All of its weight I R. O'C. MY

here I lie: : I rest, says^Alfonsina, The epitaph is plain to the passer-by*

Here I rest, deriving joy and cheer In this ground, for I feel nothing here.

No more the frenzy of the troubled eye ; Lips, worn down to the bone, no longer sigh. 5*9 ALFONSINA STORNI

Dnermo mi sueno eterno a plerna suelta, Me Hainan y no quiero darme vuelta.

Tengo la tierra encima y no la siento; Llega el invierno y no me enfria el viento.

El verano mis suenos no madura; La primavera el pulso no me apura.

El corazon no tiembla, salta o late; Fuera estoy de la linea de combate.

I Que dice el ave aquella., caminante ? Tradticeme su canto perturbante: c Nace la lima nueva; el mar perfuma; Los cnerpos bellos bafianse de espuma.

*Va junto al mar un hombre que en la boca Lleva una abeja libadora y loca.

*Bajo la blanca tela el torso quiere El otro torso que palpita y muere.

*Los marineros suenan en las proas; Cantan muchachas desde las canoas.

^Zarpan los bnques y en sns claras cuevas Los Ixombres parten hacia tierras nuevas* e La mujer que en el suelo esta dormida Y en su epitafio rie de la vida,

es mujer, grabo en su sepultura

Una mentira aun : la de su hartura.*

520 ALFONSINA STORNI

Relaxed, I sleep my everlasting sleep. They call : I have no rendez-vous to keep.

Laid under earth, I neither mourn nor mind. The winter comes, and I can not feel the wind,

Summer does not mature my drowsy sleeping. Spring does not hurry the rate o my pulse's beating.

My heart is steady, It does not leap or bound : The combat zone lies far beyond this ground,

What does that bird say, traveller, what does it say ? Translate for me its disconcerting lay,

'The new moon shines. There's a smell of sea in the air. The bodies of bathers gleam in the white foam there,

C A man on the shore receives upon his lips A crazy thirsty bee that sucks and sips.

'Under the white cloth the searching body tries To find its counterpart that throbs and dies.

'Sailors are dreaming in the bows of boats; From small canoes a girlish singing floats.

"Ships weigh anchor: deep in the shining hold Voyagers sail for new lands beyond the old.

'The woman who slumbers here below the ground And mocks in her epitaph at the life around,

'Being a woman who In stone denies The satisfaction of living Here she lies! R.H. JOSE RAMON HEREDIA

MI POEMA A JL0S NINOS MWEMTOS EN

JLA Gl/ERRA BE BSPAJA a Vicente Gerbasi

sl todas las estrellas COMO cayesen podridas 3 como si asquerosos insectos deshbjasen todas las flores, como si peludas manos retorcieran las gargantas de todos los pajaros, como si fuesen machacadas todas las hormigas, y arrancados los ojos de todos los munecos.

Como si quedaran sin alas todas las abejas, si los como fuesen devorados todos peces? como si fuesen triturados todos los caracoles, como si rabiosos hacheros derribasen todos los arboles, y se apagasen todas las canciones y se quedara mudo el mundo.

Como si en absurdos almanaques fuesen borradas todas las NavidadeSj como si se incendiaran todos los arbolitos, y se perdiera el Tlo Nicolas, y se quedaran solos, tristemente solos, debajo de las cunas vacias, todos los zapatitos.

! entre terrones cenizas hediondos estan ellos Ah y y humos? sin bombones, sin mieles, sin teteros, ni estampas, ni barajas, ni pelotas, ni azules bombas, ni inconexas palabras tan conexas! sin violines de llantos y de lisas.

522 JOSE RAMON HEREDIA

MY POEM TO Tmm CmiWmMN JKIJLJLED IN TME WAM IN SPAIN

To Vicente Gerbasi

As though all the stars should fall down, putrified, as though filthy insects should strip every flower of its petals, as though shaggy hands should wring the necks of all the birds, as though every ant should be pulverized,, and the eyes ripped out of every doll.

As though all the bees were to be left wingless, all the fish gobbled up, as though all the snails were to be crushed to bits, as though raging woodsmen were to slash down every tree, and every song were stilled, the world left mute.

As if in absurd almanacs every Christmas should be blotted out, as if all the little festive trees should be burnt, and Santa Glaus were to get lost, and all the little shoes should be left alone, pitifully alone, beneath empty cradles.

Ah, among rubble and ashes and stinking smoke there the} are! with no bonbons, no honey, no nursing-bottles, no picturebooks, no games, no rubber balls, no blue balloons no incoherent prattle yet so coherent! , with no violins that weep and laugh: JOSE RAMON HEREDIA junto a caballltos despanzurrados, munecos mutilados y desesperadas madres que desflecan en el viento angustlado su doloroso grito.

Que tin pedazo de noche se nos cuaje en los ojos, que pesadas cortinas nos tumben la mirada, que anchas puertas de plomo se cierren tras nosotros., que algodones de muerte nos tapen los oidos, para no ver nl oir ese romperse de alas inaudito^ ese abatirse de angeles bajo clelos atonitos y estupefactas lunas doloridas.

les las caras. Que no veamos nunca jNo? DIos mio! slgnadas de alacranes y murclelagos, a esos trituradores de tiuesos, que con furiosas unas retorcidas arafian a la tlerra reseca, que les salta a los ojos inyectado que chirrian sus desesperadas mandibulas, y con anchos carrlllos soplan frio sobre el mundo.

Oh! no, DIos mio! dejanos Itjos, lejos! con este viento helado sobre el pecho, y esta pledra metlda en la garganta, llorar por los idiomas de azucar ya perdidos, llorar por las vloletas arrancadas, llorar por tantas cuerdas destrozadas, llorar roto por todo aquello, ? irremediablemente roto. Dejanos, DIos mio, entre bosques de pinos, dlciendo para ellos bajo estrellas humildes nuestros himnos. JOSE RAMON HEREDIA but among rocking-horses with shattered bellies, mutilated dolls, and desperate mothers who shake out on the anguished wind their stricken crying.

Let a piece of night curdle in our eyes, let heavy curtains cast down our sight, let wide leaden doors shut to behind us, let death's cotton stop up our ears, so that we shall not see or hear that noiseless breaking of wings, that fall of angels under amazed skies and stupefied grieving moons.

O my God, let us never see the faces, blessed by scorpion and bat, of those crushers of bones who with furious twisted talons scratch at the parched earth which flies up into their bloodshot eyes, who creak their desperate jaws and with bloated cheeks puff cold across the world.

! us far O my God, no Let away from them! away !, with this frozen wind upon our breasts, this rock tight in our throats, weep for the honeyed language lost now, weep for uprooted violets, weep for so many snapped cords, weep for all that broken, hopelessly broken. Leave us, O my God, in the pine groves, saying for them our canticles beneath the humble stars.

525 OSCAR CASTRO Z.

LLEVABA el dia en el cinto como un alfanje de plata, y en el arzon de la silla, una guitarra gitana. Romances de luces nuevas se abrian en su garganta. Los ayes del cante jondo la lamlari como llamas.

Cuando soltaba su copla cantaba toda la Espana.

TSIo murlo como un gitano: no murio de punalada. Cinco fusiles buscaron^ por cinco caminos, su alma. Le abrieron el corazon lo mlsmo que una granada. el } Y surtidor de su sangre mancho las estrellas altas!

Como lloraban los rios j de Espana!

En ese ixistante mdeciso de las liembras despeinadas, en ese instante en que el grillo cava la mina del alba5 Garcia Lorca, en el suelo, con una flor colorada condecorandole el pecho, quedo sin canto y sin habla. OSCAR CASTRO Z.

HE wore the day in his belt., like a cutlass all of silver., he carried a gypsy guitar slung across his saddle. Ballads of. new lustre unfolded in his throat, and the -wail of the cante jondo licked at it like flames.

When he burst into song the whole of Spain sang with him.

He did not die like a gypsy: he was not stabbed to death. Five rifles went searching, by five roads, for his soul: and they split wide his heart the same as a pomegranate, and the fountain of his blood shot up to stain the stars !

And then how they wept, the rivers of Spain !

At that nondescript moment of females with hair uncombed, that moment when the cricket is drilling the mine of dawn, Garcia Lorca, on the ground, with the star of a red flower glittering upon his breast, lay without song or speech. 527 OSCAR CASTRO Z.

Como temblaban los montes I de Espana! Cuando enmudecio su lengua no dobiaron las campanas. ISFadie le trajo una rosa^ ni un verso, ni una gpuitarra. Apenas el chlsperio de una estrella deshojada. Apenas,, la vision ultima de la cal de las murallas

jComo crujian los huesos de Espana !

! { Garcia Lorca | Garcia Lorca! mil voces clamaban. Preciosa, la del pandero, danzando se desmayaba. Brincaban,, enloquecidos, los pechos de Santa Olalla- La casada del romance desgarraba sus entranas.

se el j Como rompia alma de Espana !

Muerto se quedo en la tierra, tronchado por cinco balas* Este afio no daran frutos los naranjos de Granada. Este ano no habra claveles en las rejas sevillanas. El rio Guadalquivir llevara sangre en sus aguas.

}C6mo llorara su espiritu en las guitarras de Espana! OSCAR CASTRO Z.

And then how they trembled^ the mountains of Spain ! "When his tongue fell silent there was no tolling of bells. No one brought him a rose-, no one a verse or guitar. There was just the faint twinkling of a single stripped star. For him, just the final glimpse of whitewashed walls . . .

And then how they creaked, the bones of Spain! Garcia Lorca! Lorca! a thousand voices were crying. Preciosa with her tambourine was fainting as she danced, The crazed breasts of Saint Eulalia leapt trembling. The married woman of the ballad clawed her belly open.

And then how it broke^ the soul of Spain ! He lay dead on the ground, pierced through by five bullets. This year there'll be no fruit from the orange trees of Granada. This year therell be no pinks at Seville's grated windows. The River Guadalquivir will bear blood on its waters.

And then how his ghost will weep in the guitars of Spain ! LUIS CARDOZA Y ARAGON

mm wmmmmic &&MCMA. JLORCA

SE fue el gitano de farra con una linda mulata y una buena guitarra alegre y averiguando por que *La mujer de Antonio * camina asi

Mujeres en los balcones, y nayades y tritones cantaban versos de nacar al poeta de Granada :

*Ven por aqui, Federlco? a sahumar las naranjas, las plnas y las guanabanas. Te exprimire en un refresco tardes en flor y canciones, la musica de los sones y un cante-jondo : el color. La guitarra esta ya enclnta (no se sabe si de aurora, de algun mulato o de alondra) cantando como una nina, mas esbeltas las caderas y mas redonda la forma, con una tan dulce vox jque enganara las abejas!

Ven por aquf? Federico, nos pintaremos de negro toda la cara y el cuerpo, LUIS CARDOZA Y ARAGON

OJF1 JFJEI&JEJMC

THE roistering gypsy went away with a pretty mulatto and a good guitar., gay and eager to know why 'Antonio's wife walks like that * . /

Women on the balconies, and naiads and tritons sang songs of mother-of-pearl to the poet of Granada: e Come this way, Federico: make the oranges fragrant, and the pineapples and the custard-apples. I shall squeeze out for you a drink of flowering evenings and songs, the music of dances and the deep song of colour, The guitar is pregnant now (perhaps with the dawn, with some mulatto, or a lark) singing" like a girl, with hips more slender and shape more rounded, with a voice so sweet

as to fool the bees ! Come this way, Federico, we shall paint all black our faces and bodies,

53* LUIS CARDOZA Y ARAGON nos rizaremos el pelo

teSir el ! I para hasta sueno Hay unos cantos de negros las vie as: como uvas muy j }ya la semilla de azucar mas dulce que los lnceros F

Se ue el gitano de farra con una linda mulata alegre y averignando . . , Y a orillas del mar se ainaron., y al despertar se encontraron con el sol en la gultarra.

532 LUIS CARDOZA Y ARAGON we shall curl our hair to stain even our sleep ! There are negro songs like over-ripe grapes. They are the sugar seed, sweeter than the morning stars !'

The roistering gypsy went away with a pretty mulatto gay and eager to know . , . And they made love on the beach, and when they woke up they found the sun in their guitar. D. D. W.

533 SALOMON DE LA SELVA

Mi companero ha muerto. La confusion en el asalto nos separo un momento, Jim rnomento, y ahora es para siempre! Quiero estar solo, escondido de todas las miradas para decir mi queja.

ii

I Como pude seguir en la pelea si me habia vestido de valor solo porque jamas en su presencia me atrevi a desnudar la natural fiaqueza de mi espfritu ? m

! I Hermano y mas que hermano Ahora que me faltas doblemente me pesan los arreos. El viento sopla dos veces mas helado.

Si seras tti el el ! I que vive, yo que ha muerto Todo esta tan cambiado.

534 SALOMON DE LA SELVA

MY comrade is dead. In the assault confusion. parted us for a moment a moment, and now it is for ever ! I want to be alone, hidden away from all eyes, to make my lament.

ii

How could I go on fighting if I had clothed myself in valour only because never in his presence did I dare uncover the natural weakness of my spirit ? in

Brother, and more than brother ! Now that you are gone from me, my trappings weigh doubly upon me. The icy wind is doubly cold. If you could be the one to live, I the one who died ! Everything is so changed.

535 SALOMON DE LA SELVA rv

Asi como en las copas de los buenos festines rebosa el vino obscuro y deja roja mancha en los manteles, tus ojos rebosaban carino y tu rostxo se inundaba de rubores.

Tu mirada era mas dulce que el sueno y mas consoladora, y era mejor que el baile con mujeres luchar contigo cuando helaba, sentir tu aliento puro en las mejillas y tu pugil vibrar en todo el cuerpo.

VT

I Donde estara la doncella predestinada a una viudez de virgen a quien tu beso, tu beso y no el de otro^ debiera haber fecundi2:ado ? Yo le diria: 'Hermana, toma mi cuerpo que supo ser tan suyo que aunque no sangra> siente la herida que a su cuerpo dio descanso !"

536 SALOMON DE LA SELVA

IV

Just as in the goblets at good feasts the dark wine overflows and leaves a red stain on the cloth, your eyes overflowed with affection and your face was flooded with blushes.

Your glance was sweeter than sleep and more soothing, and better than dancing with women was wrestling with you in the frost, feeling your pure breath on my cheeks, my whole body vibrating with your strength.

VI

Where can the maiden be predestined to a virgin widowhood whom your kiss, your kiss and no other man's, should have made fruitful ? I would say to her: 'Sister, take my body that was so much his that though it does not bleed, it feels the wound that gave his body restP D. D. w.

537 ENRIQUE PENA BARRENECHEA

GUSTAVO ADOLFO BECQUER, que en el jardin del sueno arrancas a la citara de tu melancolia sones que se convierten en claveles de espuma y en el cielo se pierden como tus golondrinas.

Eres el rey romantico, eres la sombra pura, el de corazon tierno, fino como un rosal, asi te lo hizo el cielo con albores de luna,, y en el, timida, un ave su canto trlste da.

Apoyada la frente en el cristal, la lluvia fina de hace clen anos veo lenta caer; todavia en mi noche tengo tu libro ablerto

al lado de la a hacer ! lampara. Vida, j que voy

jQue voy a hacer! Florecen como ayer en mi suenc campanulas azules, y siempre una cancion en el alba, en la tarde y en la noche me acecha y echa su red de muslca sobre mi corazon*

Los treboles suspiran en tu silencio diafano :

el nacar de los cielos cubre tu soledad : Gustavo Adolfo Becquer, que en tu region de ensueno vibren por ti los angeles sus arpas de cristal.

CAMJTJV0 BJE-JL MOM&IIE

Yo NO podia saber si era tu cielo o el mio, si era mi sueno o tu sueno, 'mi delirio o tu delirio.

53$ ENRIQUE PE&A BARRENECHEA

worn

GUSTAVO ADOLFO BECQUER, who in the garden of slumber pluck from the cittern of your melancholy sounds that turn into carnations of foam and are lost like your swallows in the sky :

You are the romantic king, the pure spirit, and your heart is warm and subtle as a rose-bush which the sky made for you out of the moon-white, and in which, timidly, a bird pipes its sad song.

My brow pressed to the window-pane, I watch the slow fine century-old rain come down; still in my night I keep your volume open beside the lamp. Li e, what I am going to do I

What I am going to do ! As yesterday, blue harebells flower in my sleep, and always a song at dawn, in the afternoon, at evening stalks me to cast its net of music over my heart*

The clover sighs in your limpid silence : the skies' mother-of-pearl masks your loneliness : Gustavo Adolfo Becquer, in your region of dream may the angels pluck for you their crystal harps! M:B. D.

MAN'S R0AJ9

I COTJLD not know if it was your heaven or mine, if it was my dream or your dream, my delirium or yours.

539 ENRIQUE PE^A BARRENECHEA

Sobre el agua una luz ancha era a modo de un camino, y sobre la luz un barco, y sobre el barco un destino.

Jardin del aire, jardin

iluminado y sombrio ; lluvia azul que del paisaje era asi como su espiritu,

Yo no podia saber si el mar era el mar, si digo que era el mar, el mar no era, y si no era, era el mar mismo.

el

Yo no podia saber si era tu sueno o el mio. Hombre que elige su ruta tiene que andar su camino.

AMIGOS : que un buen dia me presento la vida teneis los y que ojos cerrados para siempre? sombra os ahora sus arabescos ?

540 ENRIQUE PE&A BARRENECHEA

A broad light on the water was like a road, and on the light a ship, and on the ship a fate.

Garden o the air, garden sunlit and shadowy; the blue rain was like the spirit of the landscape.

I could not know if the sea was the sea: if I say that it was the sea, the sea it was not; if I say it was not, it was very sea.

How long was the dream from another dream suspended ? Little lily-flower of air, lamp over the abyss.

I could not know if it was your dream or mine. Man who chooses his way has to keep to his road. M.L.

POETS

FRIENDS whom one fine day life gave me and whose eyes are now for ever closed, what shadow now weaves for you its mournful arabesques ? or what light, purer even than snow, now floods them ? ENRIQUE PE&A BARRENECHEA

Me acuerdo de tu risa, Guillen, de tu palabra, donde saltaba un agil surtidor de luceros, del condor que volaba desde tu poesia ebrio de sol, alegre, a no se qu6 universe.

tan tan j Oquendo? Oquendo, Oquendo, palido, triste, tan debil que hasta el peso de una flor te rendia! Tu ternura nos pinta sobre el marfil del cielo, con pinceles de chlno, palomas, golondrinas!

Y atonito entre el mundo su j Harry Riggs, y angustia! Y sonambulo la luz lunar! j Harry Riggs., bajo nino en esta noche un | Ah,, pobre muerto, que angel te lleve de la mano por el jardin astral !

Son citaras sus nombres que en mi silencio suenan; mi corazon los slgue por sus mundos arcanos.

I A la luz de que lampara, como ayer5 leeremos otra vez nuestros versos, en las noches, hermanos ?

542 ENRIQUE PE&A BARRENECHEA

I remember your laughter, Guillen, your speech, whence sprang a quick jet of flashing stars, the condor, drunk with the sun, and gay, that soared from your poetry, I know not where.

Oquendo, Oquendo, Oquendo, so pale, so sad, so frail that even a flower's weight bore you down ! On an ivory sky, with Chinese brushes, your tenderness paints for us swallows and doves.

And Harry Riggs, amazed amid the world and its anguish!

And Harry Riggs, sleepwalker beneath the light of the moon ! Ah poor dead boy, on this night may an angel lead you by the hand through the garden of the stars !

Their names are citharas that sound in my silence; my heart follows them through their secret worlds. By the light of vphat lamp shall we read, as of old, our verses once again in the evenings, my brothers ? M: E, D.

543 LEOPOLDO MARECHAL

VESTIDA y adornada como para sus bodas la Muerta va: dos nines la conducen> llorando. Y es en el mismo carro de llevar las espigas maduras en diciembre.

El cuerpo va tendido sobre lanas brillantes, ejes y ruedas cantan su antigua servidumbre, clavado en la pradera como una lanza de oro fulgura el medlodia.

(Mi hermano va en un potro del color de la noche, yo en una yegua blanca sin herrar todavia.)

La Muerta va en el carro de los trigos maduros : su cara vuelta al sol tiene un brillo de niquel. Se adivina la forma del silencio en sus labios, una forma de Have.

Ha cerrado los ojos a la calma visible del dia y a su juego de numeros cantores; y se aferran sus manos a la Cruz en un gesto de invisible naufrayio.

544 LEOPOLDO MARECHAX

DRESSED and adorned as though for her wadding the dead woman goes: two children ride ahead, weeping. And this is the same wagon that hauls the ripe sheaves in December.

Her body goes stretched out on brilliant \vools 5 axles and wheels chant

their ancient servitude ; thrust into the prairie like a golden lance the noontide quivers.

(My brother is riding a colt the colour of nLglrtj and I a white mare that has not yet been shod.)

The dead woman goes in the wagon for earth .gripe wheat: her face, turned to the sun, has a shimmer of nickel.

of silence is The shape foretold upon her lips, the shape of a key.

She has closed her eyes to the visible calm of the day, and to its play of singing measures; and her hands clasp the Cross with a gesture of invisible shipwreck. -

545 LEOPOLDO MARECHAL

Y mientras el cortejo se adelanta entre floras y linos que cecean el idioma del viento., la cabeza yacente, sacudida en el viaje., responde al mundo con un vasto signo de negacion.

Dos ninos la conducen: en sus frentes nubladas el enigma despunta. I Por que la Muerta va con su traje de boda ? Por en el mismo carro

(Mi hermano va en un potro del color de la noche, yo en una yegua blanca sin herrar todavia.) LEOPOLDO MARECHAL

And as the cortege moves forward through the flowers and flax that lisp the wind's language, the prostrate head, shaken by the journey, answers the world with a huge sign of denial

Two children ride beside her: upon their.cloudy foreheads an enigma looms. Why does the dead woman go in her wedding dress ? Why in the same wagon that hauls the sheaves ?

(My brother is riding a colt the colour of the night, I a white mare that has not yet been shod.) D.F.

547 ROBERTO IBA&EZ

JPOK JL& AMOCrABOS Q17JS JU57OJUVA2V

Los ahogados descienden con los ojos Iejanos3 bloqueada de silencios sensitives la voz. Emigran a una fria primavera de peces. Zodiacos de luna coagulan su candor.

Sus sombras desprendidas sobre las olas velan^

embridadas de sol :

temblorosos tatuajes., archipielagos ninos> sigilan en la espuma su desdenado adios.

Profugos de riberas^ en el agua infinita, los ahogados descienden con la boca sin sed. Bajo el menton aprietan estallados violines. Lunas de gelatina lamen su desnudez.

si abrieran los I Ah, labios que les soldo la muerte con su esteril pezon ! Una sonrisa blanca en su espanto izaria la cuajada paloma que les veda la voz.

En sus axilas yertas un pez azul desova y una estrella marina les indaga la pieL si abrieran los tercas j Ah, parpados, valvas, podrian las perlas disidentes de sus ojos nacer !

Turbias llamas finisimas sus cabellos se yerguen con una empecinada tristeza vegetal.

548 ROBERTO IBA&EZ

FOJS TME &HQWNE MEN WHO SiET&RN

THE drowned descend with distance in their eyes, their voices stoppered with fine silences. They migrate to the cold springtime of the fishes. Zodiacs of the moon coagulate their whiteness.

Their loosened shadows watch above the waves, bridled by the sun: shuddering tattoos, young archipelagoes, conceal within the foam their scorned farewell.

Fugitives from shores, in endless water, the drowned descend with unthirsting mouths. Beneath their chins they press shattered violins. And moons of gelatine lap their nakedness.

Ah, if they opened the lips that death has sealed with its sterile nipple! The bewildered dove that blocks their voice would hoist a smile white in its fear,

A blue fish spawns within their rigid armpits and a sea star probes their skin. Ah, if they would open their eyelids, stubborn shells, the dissident pearls of their eyes might be born !

Their hair stands up in slender troubled flames with an obstinate vegetal sadness,

549 ROBERTO IBA^EZ

Un fondeado relampago de silencio verdece. Los llama a sus violentas vendimias el coral. Albos paracaidas las medusas les sueltan. Espejos entreabiertos minan su soledad.

Y los nadadores I ahogados giran, sonambulos, Pescadores extaticos de una perla fatal I

Despiertan los ahogados. Despiertan y sonrien. Posteridad de lirios, su sonrisa lunar. Decapitados cisnes tripulan los mas palidos. Dociles peces llevan sobre el hombro glacial.

La infancia submarina de sus ojos empieza, de pie bajo las aguas, con mascaras de sal.

Ahogados ruisenores escuchan los ahogados^ felices en su adulta, perfecta navidad. Criaturas libertadas, sin sangre y sin memoria,, cursan las descendidas intemperies del mar.

Astronomos de quillas, un dia o una noche? cruel y definitivo les pesa el corazon, Y hacia la luz inutil los despide, imperiosa dinamita de soL

los lloran llanto [ Ay5 ahogados un sumergido, invisible y tenaz! Y suben, con las manos sin destino^ crispadas en la vertiginosa cabellera del mar.

El angel de las aguas ordena su retorno. Las algas estrangulan un serpentino adios. Y buscan los las tierras desistidas I ahogados para morder a solas su tragico terron!

550 ROBERTO IBANEZ

A sunken lightning flash of silence goes green. The coral summons them to its violent vintages. For them the jelly-fish release their milky parachutes. Half-open mirrors mine their solitude.

And the drowned twist, somnambulant swimmers,

ecstatic fishers of a fatal pearl !

The drowned awake. They awake and smile. Their moonlike smile, posterity of lilies. Decapitated swans propel the palest ones. They carry docile fish upon their icy shoulders.

The submarine childhood of their eyes begins, upright beneath the waters, masked with salt.

Drowned nightingales they hear, the men who drown, happy in their birth, complete and fully grown. Liberated creatures, no memory, no blood, haunting the sunken inclemency of the sea.

Day or night, astronomers of keels, cruel and final their dead hearts weigh them down and send them upward to the useless light, the imperious dynamite of the sun.

Unyielding and unseen, the drowned men weep floods of submerged tears ! And rise, their futureless hands clutching at the whirlpool tresses of the sea.

The angel of the waters bids their return. The seaweed strangles a serpentine farewell. And the drowned men seek the lands they once left to bite in solitude their tragic clod!

L. M. 9 D. D. w. 55 * EDUARDO ANGUITA

0FICI

EL te de los difuntos El parpado que nos cierra a la vida Y nos abre a la muerte como una mano El viento naciendo de su piedra

El te de los vivos para tenirnos de cadaver Tanto lamento cuando todo esta perdido Ese hombre viene y se va Los pies de los muertos son hojas de te

Y por fin mi cuerpo desierto de

Pero no creiamos en esto

Abra la boca y respire No trate de evitarlo

De ahora en adelante no estare en casa

Ocupado ocupado bebiendo un te especial Dejandome crecer la lengua Oyendo el ruido del sol a voluntad del viento

La voluntad del viento mi estructura Las carnes y los millones de pasos Evaporados al cabo del dia

552 EDUARDO ANGUITA

TEA of the dead Eyelid that shuts life away from us And opens death to us like a hand Wind springing from its stone

Tea of the living to tint us corpse-colour So much lamentation when all is lost That man comes and goes The feet of the dead are tea-leaves

And finally my own body In what profound desert of shadow Do we sow sand and reap silence ? Here below the months follow thus in order Full of hours washing our eyes of the final moment And a voice asking 'Shall I bring food?*

But we believed not in this

Open your mouth and breathe Do not try to escape it

From now on I shall not be at home Busy busy drinking a particular tea Letting my tongue grow long Listening to the clamour of sun at the wind's will

The wind's will my form My flesh and my millions of steps Vapourized at day's end 553 EDUARDO ANGUITA

El te de los difuntos se bebc lejos Los arrozales vacios con su candor rigido Y mi cabeza sola

TJRAIVSITO AJL FIN

LA puerta puede abrirse, puede entrar el ladrido del perro, sin que necesitemos saber nada.

Mientras no entre el viento en nosotros, cuando tenemos los ojos viajando entre los muebles de la diversidad de los miedos de cada muerto, podemos refr en la espuma de lo obscuro.

La seguridad del que abre su vestido privado, dejando mostrar las huellas blancas de los delirios, con un poco de fuerza se logra concentrar la ceniza invisible, la sombra, mi muerte particular.

Piedras en los cabellos, ya solido su silencio, pasos de las manos solas en el cuerpo. Es asi como amamos el aire de la estatua, el aire que nos empuja a la vejez.

El hombre camina a una habitacion semejante^ y se coloca el traje que le conduce para siempre.

554 EDUARDO ANGUITA

The tea of the dead is drunk far away The empty rice-fields with their stiff simplicity And my lonely head L.M.

PASSAGE TO THE END

THE door can open,

the dog's howl can come in, without our needing to know anything.

As long as the wind does not enter us, when we keep our eyes traveling among the furniture of the diverse fears of each dead man, we can scoff in the scum of gloom.

The certainty of the man who reveals himself to show the white footprints of delirium, with a little force can concentrate the invisible ash, the shadow, my special death.

Stones in the hair, solid now in silence, the lonely passing of hands over the body. This is the feeling we like in a statue, the feeling that pushes us on to old age.

Man travels to a similar room, and arranges his clothing that is his conduct for ever. L.M.

555 RAUL OTERO REICHE

ISA JkA IVdCMJEJ

roto los cristales de la noche golpeando con las alas de algrin sueno. JVfis arterias abiertas en resales desangran el perfume de la aurora,

Rocio del Rosario, pastorcilla de estxellas y luceros, quebro en el arroynelo del silencio la cantara de plata de la luna.

Se llcua el espejo sonoro del espacio. Tiembla el bosque en un vuelo de campanas sacudidas a prlsa per el vlento.

Un pajaro de.oro se sumerje en el rio de esmeralda y despues en el arbol de la aurora pone a secar la luz de su plumaje *

gultarrero de raices atormentadas de armonfa. Verde es la caja de la tierra para encordarla de arcolris. 556 RAUL OTERO REICHE

TMJE NMG.MT "WAS GOING . . .

I HAVE broken the panes of the night beating with the wings of a dream. My arteries like roses when they open, bleed the perfume of the dawn.

Rosary dew, little shepherdess of the stars and morning light, broke in the rill of silence the silver pitcher of the moon.

The ringing mirror of space is molten. The wood trembles in a flight of bells rapidly shaken by the wind*

A golden bird dips into the emerald river and then on the tree of dawn begins to dry the light of his plumage. R.H.

ROMANZA OF TME GUITARStlST

AY, guitarrist of the roots by harmony tormented ! Green is the frame of the earth to be strung with the rainbow.

557 RAUL OTERO REICHE

{ Ay .> guitarrero luminoso de las auroras subterraneas, tus coplas fluyen de los arboles y se hacen ojos de mujeres.

Yo te he escuchado en la madera maravillosa de la luna. Jamas los ritmos encendieron tantas estrellas en la mar.

Yo te he escuchado de rodillas junto al cadaver de una rosa. Solo un espejo de esmeralda puede fluir en tanta selva.

Solo la miel de los luceros se infiltra tanto en el rubi. de Ay 3 guitarrero luciernagas en esas noches de punales ensangrentados de silenclo.

Todos los vldrlos de la musica se me Incmstaron en el pecho. Y cada herlda era una nota^ y era una espina de cristal.

Se hicleron grandes los claveles en la desnuda vibracion. Danzaron piernas de agua dulce, y las caderas de perfume se Iban hinchando en el danza.

de rafces J Ay guitarrero atormentadas de arnionia. La mejor copla es la del agua que se hace espejo de la voz. 558 RAUL OTERO REICfiE

Ay, luminous guitarrist of subterranean dawns! Your verses float from the trees and become the eyes of women-

I have heard you In the marvelous woodwork of the moon. Never did rhythm kindle such starlight on the sea.

I have heard you on my knees beside the corpse of a rose. Only an emerald mirror can flow in such a forest.

Only the morning stars mingle such honey and ruby. Ay, guitarrist of the fireflies In those nights of daggers bloodstained with silence.

All the crystals of music were graven in my heart, and every wound was a note, a glassy thorn*

The carnations grew great in the naked twanging. There danced lirnbs of fresh water, and thighs of perfume swelling in the dance*

Ay? guitarrist of the roots by harmony tormented! The water*s verse is the best, the mirror of the voice. R.H. 559 RAUL OTERO REICHE

CUANDO se hundio la Atlantida como ha de hundirse America si hay guerras entre herinanos cuando se hundio la Atlantida los mares emergieron en una sola tromba formando una columna mas densa que la noche, alta los cielos mas que ; y era una enorme boa de puas erizadas de estrellas y cristales, la inmensa tromba en marcha que atraveso la tierra de los Tahuantinsuyos, destronando idolos y obscureciendo el sol. Los hombres se quedaron inmoviles de espanto con grandes cicatrices de garras caprichosas zurcidas en la plei A golpes el oleaje les cerceno los brazos, les aplasto los rostros para una eternidad, La enormeola de agua corria sin obstaculos por el gran continente que no era la Lemuria sino el de Whitney, Muller, Buelma y Oswald Spengler y cuyos habitantes hablaban el lenguaje de los cuatro elementos que florecio en Tartesos, en Yucatan, en la India, en Egipto y Caldea.

La gran columna en marcha de la tormenta Hquida corria sin obstaculos por la extension intermina de las planicies roncas de vientos ancestrales las que aullaban en gratas azules de los lagos . y se vestian de algas, de liquenes y perlas para trenzar los negros cabellos de las 5ustas. Porque la tierra entonces era todavia plana sin sabios Galileos ni intr6pidos Colones^ y el mar se entro en la tierra

560 RAUL OTERO REICHE

WHEN Atlantis sank into the sea as America must sink if there are wars between brothers when Atlantis sank, the seas rose in one great spout, forming a column denser than the night, loftier than the skies; an enormous boa-constrictor, its scales bristling with stars

and crystals, the immense, moving waterspout which crossed the land of the Tahua-ntin-suyu, dethroning idols and darkening the sun. Men were left motionless with fright, with great scars from capricious claws stitched into their flesh.

The surging, pounding waves lopped off their arms, crushed their faces for an eternity. The enormous wave of water flowed unhindered across the great continent which was not Lemuria, but the continent of Whitney, Muller, Buelma, and Oswald Spengler, and whose inhabitants spoke the language of the four elements, which flourished in Tartessus, in Yucatan, in India, in Egypt apdChaldea.

The great moving column of the liquid storm flowed unhindered across the limitless extent of the plains hoarse with ancestral winds that howled in the blue caverns of the lakes and dressed themselves in seaweed, in lichens and in pearls to braid the black hair of the Daughters of the Sun.

For the earth then was still flat, with no learned Galileo or intrepid Columbus, and the sea entered the land,

561 RAUL OTERO REICHE rompiendose en estrepltos de huaynos y kaluyos y orlando con espumas las cuestas multiformes del aspero oleaje.

Pero el furor celeste del padre de los Antis y de la diosa blanca de los eternos hielos detovo para slempre la fuga de los mares lanzando desde lo alto relampagos de cobre, de oro, de estano y plata,

de zinc y de antimonio, de wolfran y de hierro . . . que desde entonces buscan los hombres en el seno profundo de la mar petrlficada.

Surgieron nuevas razas en sierras y en llanuras y en valles y ensenadas con Manco y Mama Ojllo, que desde Pakarina, de Tampu Tamputocco, de la region sagrada del lago Titicaca, traian en sus venas la sangre de un linaje de artistas y poetas de heroicos guerrilleros e ingenuos sembradores que en balsas de totora surcaron los cristales azules de los tiempos llegando a las orillas profundas de la noche que guarda el gran misterio de la ciudad eterna. ^= ^ * # *

jDivina Pacha Mama, revelanos tu espiritu y acerca a miestros labios la copa de agua pura que fecundo en tus manos la vara del tridente que da la flor de amor; envuelvanos en rojos fulgores la cabeza del aguila, y el fuego terrestre del punal, y el arco de los vientos que forma una serpiente de musica, remate los simbolos del Sol!

562 RAUL OTERO REICHE breaking into the crashing rhythms of huaynos and \duyos and garnishing with foam the manyshaped crests of the rugged waves.

But the celestial fury of the father of the Antis and of the white goddess of the eternal ice stopped for ever the flight of the seas, launching from on high lightningbolts of copper, of gold, of

tin and silver, of zinc and antimony, wolfram and iron . . . which since then men have sought for in the deep bosom of the petrified sea.

New races arose in sierras and on plains and in valleys and bays, with Manco and Mama Ocllo, that since the time of Pakarina, of Tampu or Tampu-tocco, from the sacred region of Lake Titicaca, bore in their veins the blood of a line of artists and poets, of heroic guerilla fighters and artless sowers who in rafts of bulrushes furrowed the blue waters of time, reaching the deep shores of night that guards the great mystery of the eternal city. # * # * * Divine Pacha Mama, to reveal to us thy spirit, and bring close our lips the cup of pure water that made fruitful in thy hands that bears the flower of love the plant with three branches ; let the eagle's head and the dagger's earthly fire wrap us in red effulgence, and let the bow of the winds, that forms a serpent of music, be a crown for the symbols of the Sun!

563 RAUL OTERO REICHE

Surgieron mievas razas, imperios y culturas del mar petrificado, del continente andino que entre las aguas turbias del tremulo Hauiquira, al pie del Quinsachata., sobre los petreos llanos, eleva las columnas, los porticos, las jambas y las maravillosas estatuas de traquita que velan todavia la luz de Tiahuanacu. * * % * * jDivina Pacha Mama!,

I que ue de la sublime grandeza de Xibalba, que ue del helenismo del gran Chichen Itza ? No existe ya Palenque frondosa y perfumada, no existen ya las frias comafcas de Elenin.

Las petreas fortalezas de Mallka, I que se hicieron ? I Que se hizo, Pacha Mama, Tenochtitlan ? Quien graba en Tiahuanacu la historia de los siglos y quien erige estatuas al dios Quetzalcoatl ? Ya no retumba el eco de guerra del pututu que estrepitosamente rodo por las llanuras y los desfiladeros sin fin de Colla-pata; tan solo los pinquillos, los sicus y las quenas retuercen en la estepa sus raices musicales para que brote el pardo dolor de la yareta, la angustia de la thola y el bello sacriificio lunar de las vestales que florecio en kantutas.

I Quiea sino KON un dia pudo lanzar la tierra en la honda de los vientos y desatar las balsas y destrozar las flechas para que asi sucumba la estirpe de los mayas cuando se hundio la Atlantida y el mar salio cantando los versos de Platon ?

564 RAUL OTERO REICHE

New races, empires,, cultures arose from the petrified sea, from the Andean continent that on the troubled waters of trembling Lake Hauiquira, at the foot of Mount Quinsachata, upon the stony planes, erects the columns, the porticos, the posts, and the marvelous statues of trachite

that still keep watch over the light of Tiahuanaco. # * ^ * * Divine Pacha Mama, where now is the sublime grandeur of Xibalba, where is the hellenism of great Chichen Itza ? Gone now is Palenque, leafy and fragrant, gone the cold provinces of Elenin. The stone fortresses of Mallka, what has become of them ? What has happened, Pacha Mama, to Tenochtitlan ? Who engraves in Tiahuanaco the story of the centuries, and who erects statues to the god Quetzalcoad ? No longer resounds the warlike echo of the bamboo horn that rolled clamorously across the plains and through the endless gorges of Colla-pata; only the pinquittos, the sicus and the quenas twine on the great plains their flute-like roots of music in order that the drab grief of the yareta may blossom, the anguish of the thola shrub, and the beautiful lunar sacrifice of the vestals that flowered in kantutas*

What other god than KON could one day cast the earth in the slingshot of the winds and loosen the rafts and destroy the arrows and so cause the race of the Mayas to succumb, when Atlantis sank and the sea came forth singing the verses of Plato ?

565 RAUL OTERO REICHE

Cuando se hundio la Atlantida surgieron de los fondos mas bellos del oceano las tierras del Levante, los llanos infinites, los grandes bosques de almas, las pampas qujs se mecen de norte a sur y nacen y mueren con el sol, interminas planicies que corren de los Andes hasta Rio Janeiro y desde las Guayanas hasta Montevideo. Nadie iia sabido como las fragiles piraguas de Tupi y de Guarani llegaron a las costas serenas del Atlantico burlando con piruetas de pajaros marinos tormentas y tifones. Nadie ha sabido como nacieron estas selvas del verde cataclismo de todos los cristales, de todos los silencios, de todos los perfumes, del agua y de la brisa, del cielo y de la tierra. Nadie ha sabido como las margenes fioridas del no Paraguay^ los campos que rugiendo fecunda el Amazonas, las hierbas, las grarnineas, las plantas y los arboles, los valles^ los pantanos, las altas zonas frigidas, poblaronse de vambas^ zambaquies^ charruas, tobas y charcas, tehuelches y fueguinos, calcaquies, araucos, puelches y guaranies,

Bambues, motacues, cilindricas piramides del bosque esplendoroso que fluye en los espejos celestes del rio Blanco y el garmlo Itonama. Como se el ritmo lloroso del I engarza Mapucho que nutre la belleza del rio Guapore! Los formidables troncos del bosque milenario

566 RAUL OTERO REICHE

When Atlantis sank there rose from the fairest depths of ocean the lands of the East, the infinite plains, the great forests of souls, the pampas that billow from north to south and are born and die with the sun, endless prairies that flow from the Andes to Rio de Janeiro and from the Guianas to Montevideo.

No one has known how the fragile piraguas of the tribes of Tupi and Guarani reached the serene coasts of the Atlantic, outwitting with seabird pirouettes the tempests and typhoons. No one has known how these jungles were born from the green cataclysm of all the crystals, of all the silences, of all the perfumes, of the water and the breeze, of the sky and the earth. No one has known how the flowering banks of the River Paraguay, the fields made fertile by the roaring Amazon, the herbs, the grasses, the plants and the trees, the valleys, the swamps, the high frigid zones, became peopled with Vambas, Zambaquies, Charruas, Tobas and Charcas, Tehuelches and Fueguinos, Calcaquies, Araucos, Puelches, and Guaranies.

Bamboos, towering palms, cylindrical pyramids from the radiant forest that flows on the heavenly mirrors of the River Blanco and the garrulous Itonama. What enchantment in the plaintive rhythm of the falls of Mapucho that nourish the beauty of the River Guapore! The formidable trunks from the millennial forest

567 RAUL OTERO REICHE fiotaron en las aguas azules del Madera., del Orton, del Itenez, y del Madre de Dios; cayeron en un salto mortal en las gargantas de espurna^ y abrieron en El Plata la cola luminosa del pavorreal del mar.

Las flechas encendieron de puntos cardinales la Rosa de los Vientos, fijando en los caminos interminos el rumbo de todas las conquistas, y en un supremo gesto de audacias inmortales, el jefe de la tribu cimbro con sus rodillas en arco de la tierra para lanzar el no de luz del Porvenir,

Oh, America estupenda que un dia saludaste las velas espanolas con el panuelo bianco de una nevada andina y el pabellon de fuego que en Momotombo ardia si fuese el ala como gigante de un quetzal ; que desnudaste el seno marmoreo de las cumbres para calmar la fiebre de glorias y riquezas de Almagros y Pizarros; la sed inagotable de aquellos sonadores de imperios de oro y plata.

Oh, America fraterna que abriste hospitalaria las puertas de la aurora, las puertas que cerraron detras de si los Antis dejando caer al fondo del lago misterioso las Haves del planeta. El hombre del Levante que vio las nemorosas comarcas brasilenas ardientes ? raras, ricas, hermosas y fecundas? regadas de lagunas,

568 RAUL OTERO REICHE

floated on the blue waters of the Madeira, of the Orton, the Itenez, the Madre de Dios; they fell with a mortal leap into the throats of foam, and in the River Plate they spread the luminous tail of the peacock of the sea. o

The needles lighted with cardinal points the Rose of the Winds, fixing in endless paths the course of all conquests, and in a supreme gesture of immortal boldness the chief of the tribe with his knees bent the earth into a bow

to shoot the river of light that is the Future,

O stupendous America that one day greeted the Spanish sails with the white scarf of an Andean snowfall and the banner of fire flaring up front Momotombo's depth as if it were the giant wing of a quetzal] that laid bare the marbled bosom of the peaks to calm the fever for glories and riches of Almagros and Pizarros; the inexhaustible thirst of those dreamers of golden and silver empires.

O fraternal America that opened hospitably the doors of the dawn, the doors that the Antis closed behind them dropping into the depths of the mysterious lake the keys of the planet. The man from the East who saw the woody Brazilian reaches, ardent, rare, rich, beautiful, fertile, watered by lagoons,

569 RAUL OTERO REICHE crazadas dc torrentes de aromas, encendidas de estrellas y luciernagas, se irguio en los pedestales de oro de Chiquitos cinendose en el pecho cadenas de horizontes.

El hljo de la tierra que fue cacique heroico, litiirgico poeta, flechero cazador; que revlstio su cuerpo tatuado de luceros con viva fantasia de exoticos plumajes ; el vastago del agua del fuego y de los vientos; calzo velludos caltes de cuero de jaguares cinendo en sus tobillos los crotalos vibrantes de todas las serpientes que ondulan a la mar, y desgrano las perlas de todos los torrentes y se hizo un abanico de palmas muslcales y aro las soledades sin fin de Patagonia y Mexico y en Chile dispuso las jornadas olimpicas del Toqui y el tragico holocausto'de Challicuchimac. Las razas legendarias que ofrecen cuatro veces, para las cuatro lunas, la sangre perfumada de las cuatro estaciones; las razas que talaron el bosque de esmeralda fundiendo en las retortas de arcilla, los relampagos que arden en las entranas de hierro y de diamante de la sierra oriental. El hombre de la America conoce los caminos de Palca y de Tacora, los vertices azules de insolitos picachos; las crestas proteiformes, la frigida altipampa que con diez mil columnas de marmoles icasticos sostiene dulcemente la boveda del cielo. El hombre de la America

570 RAUL OTERO REICHE crossed by torrents of aromas, lighted by stars and glowworms, that man drew himself up on the golden pedestals of Chiquitos, encircling his breast with chains of horizons. The son of the earth who was heroic chieftain, liturgical poet, archer huntsman, who dressed his body, tattooed with the morning stars, in a vivid fantasy of exotic plumages, the offspring of the water, the fire and the winds he put on shaggy moccasins of jaguar hide, binding to his ankles the vibrant rattles of all the serpents that ripple to the sea, and shelled the pearls from all the torrents, and made himself a fan of melodious palmleaves, and ploughed the endless solitudes of Patagonia and Mexico, and in Chile planned the Olympic marches of the war-chiefs and the tragic holocaust of Challicuchimac. The legendary races that dedicate four times, for the four moons, the the seasons perfumed blood of four ; the races that felled the emerald forest, fusing in retorts of clay the lightningbolts that burn in the bowels of iron and diamonds of the eastern sierra. The man of America knows the paths that lead to Palca and Tacora, the blue vertices of unaccustomed peaks, the protean crests, the frigid tableland that with ten thousand columns of natural marble gently supports the vault of the sky. The man of America

571 RAUL OTERO REICHE no envidia ni los Alpes, ni extrana el Pirineo, mas vida, mas belleza, mas luz hay en el aire del nuevo continente; mas vida en las entranas frutales de sus indias/ mas luz en las pupilas, mas fuego en la belleza silvestre de sus formas talladas en el bronce magnifico del tropico.

Desde Cullancayani, la sierra levantada sobre los altos hombros de los mas altos montes, descubre la mirada los palidos fragmentos del Lago de los Incas que aun guarda en sus remansos la imagen moribunda de la ciudad de piedra. Subitamente el Ande detiene su carrera y el norte se corona de Illampu y de IlIImanL

Grandiosa maravilla de Mojos y Chiquitos que ocultan en las verdes arcadas de sus templos los barbaros altares del rio San Miguel. Alii como en Colombia, las virgenes rnorenas tejiendo estan las fibras sensibles del sae. Alii como en el Cuzco danzando estan las ruecas kaluyo y takirari. Alii es donde El Dorado despierta la codicia de espadas y armaduras, y alii donde el ensueno perfuma la leyenda famosa del Key Blanco que oyo iRuflo de Chavez contar a Grigota. * * * * *

El hombre de las pampas sirviendose del puente triunfal del arcoiris, franquea las vertientes del raudo Pilcomayo

572 RAUL OTERO REICHE

neither envies the Alps nor marvels at the Pyrenees : there is more life, more beauty, more light in the air of the new continent; more life in the fertile wombs of its Indian women, more light in the pupils of their eyes, more fire in the sylvan beauty of their bodies shaped in magnificent tropic bronze.

From Cullancayani, the sierra thrust high upon the tall shoulders of the tallest mountains, the eye discovers the pale fragments of the Lake of the Incas that still keeps in its unruffled waters the dying image of the city of stone. Suddenly the Andes halt their course, and the north is crowned with Illampu and IliimanL

The wondrous riches of Mojos and Chiquitos that conceal in the green arcades of their temples the barbaric altars of the River San Miguel. There* as in Colombia, the dark virgins are weaving the sensitive fibres of the sal plant. There, as in Cuzco, the distaffs are dancing the J^aluyo and the takirari. It is there that El Dorado awakes the greed of swords and armour, and there that fantasy embroiders the famous legend of the White King that Nuflo de Chavez heard Grigota relate. * * * ^ *

The man of the pampas, using the rainbow's triumphal bridge, crosses the cascades of the swift Pilcomayo

573 RAUL OTERO REICHE qne arrulla el silencioso dolor de la montana, de aquella inaravilla sonora de los Andes qne Diego de Centeno sello entre dos leones y dos castillos albos la noche que del cerro fluyo un albor de luna.

El hombre de la America sera como las piedras del Cuzco, misterioso; sera como las aguas de Xochimilco, puro; sera como las selvas uberrimas, fecundo ; los los como rios inquieto, como vientos agil ; como el jaguar bravio; como la mar, profundo* El hombre de la America, el hombre que envenenan las negras bocaminas y guardan en sus claros abismos las cachuelas y ocultan en sus blancos sepulcros las neveras, qne sube como el condor buscando entre las nubes la estrella del milagro; cl hombre qne nacido del parto de las aguas cuando se hundio la Atlantida,, tendra los ojos negros, hipnoticos, brillantes, encantar las verdes para serpientes amazonicas ; tendra las carnes duras como el broquel de rocas que arrastran los caimanes; sabra partear montanas y partear la tierra; sera minero, aitista, poeta y sernbrador, y en Moxos el jinete que doma los baguales de espuma de los rios. El hombre de la America sabra templar el ronco charango de sus nervios al son de los pamperos ; sabra escalar las cumbres para mirar mas lejos,

574 RAUL OTERO REICHE

that lulls the mountain's silent grief: that sonorous marvel of the Andes that Diego de Centeno blazoned on his shield between two lions and two white castles on the night that a moon's whiteness flowed from the hill.

The man of America will be like the stones of Cuzco, mysterious; will be like the waters of Xochimilco, pure; will be like the luxuriant jungles, fecund; like the rivers, turbulent; like the wind, agile; like the jaguar, untamed; like the sea, profound. The man of America, the man poisoned by the mine's black mouths, guarded by the rapids in their clear abysses,

hidden by the snowbanks in their white tombs ; who mounts like the condor, seeking among the clouds the miraculous star; the man who^ born from the womb of the waters when Atlantis sank, will have black eyes, hypnotic, brilliant eyes, to charm the green serpents of the Amazon; will have flesh hard as the rocky shield that alligators drag: that man will know how to deliver pregnant mountains and deliver the earth;

he will be a miner, an artist, a poet, and a sower, and in Moxos he will be the horseman who tames the foamy charges of the rivers. The man of America will know how to tune the harsh guitar of his nerves to the sound of the winds from the pampas; he will know how to scale the peaks to look beyond them,

575 RAUL OTERO REICHE

sabra tornarse en arbol para crecer sin Imite5 porque ya fue Bolivar y ha sicio Washington, porque ya fue vidente si se llamo Marti, porque ya fue poeta si se llamo Dario.

El hombre que aun esperan las nieves y las lluvias, las selvas, las estepas, los valles y cachimbas., los montes, las cachuelas^ las playas y los rios^ el hombre de la America, sera como es America del STJD:

UK CORAZON ! j RAUL OTERO REICHE and how to turn into a tree to grow limitlessly : for he was once Bolivar, and he has been Washington ; he was once a seer whose name was Marti, once a poet whose name was Dario.

The man for whom are still waiting the snows and rains., the jungles, plains, valleys and springs, mountains, rapids, beaches and rivers, the man of America, will be like America SOUTH; A HEART! L>. D. W.

577 EMILIO ORIBE

CANTO A JLA GJLORIA BEJL CIEL DE AMERICA al poeta Archibald MacLeisk

HOY le canto, En la gloria del cielo, a la Atlantida un canto; A traves del salvaje cordaje nocturne, Hacia lo humeda antorcha del tropico lo levanto, O hacia el monte, donde el condor remonta En crepuscular revolar taciturno.

Un cantico desprendiendose de los paramos grises, Donde el Polo Norte hipnotiza a la estrella polar,

Y como el arco iris, sobre el cristal de veinte paises Cruce, y se hunda En los tempanos del Sur otra vez en el mar.

Mas se qile la gloria del canto Es como la flor del torrente Que solo en corriente que huye halla cimiento firme, O el lujoso mirar momentaneo de tigre o serpiente. Cual un cardo de pampas al viento, Con me canto tie de irme.

La Atlantida se yergue con su doble mundo, De Norte a Sur., como un reloj de arena gigante y errabundo. En el istmo se inclina y estrecha en larga linea sinuosa, Como un reloj de arenas vivas, la Atlantida esta hecha.

Un continente en cada base reposa, Y un frontal ceruleo sin cesar la gran circunday Clepsidra que de Tiempo y sangre se inunda, Los ttombres son su arena silenciosa.

57S EMILIO ORIBE

SON T THE GLORW OF TME SKY OF JMEMICA

To the Poet Archibald MacLeish

TODAY I sing A song to Atlantis in the glory of the sky; Across the savage cordage of the night Toward the tropic's humid torch I lift it high Or toward the peak whence the condor's wing

Soars at dusk in silent flight.

A poem from grey barrens tearing free Where the North Pole hypnotizes the Pole Star, Rainbow-like above the crystal of twenty countries arches far, Then again plunges strong Amid icebergs of the South into the sea.

But I know the glory of the song Is like the torrent's flower That will strike root only in the stream's swift flow Or like tiger's or serpent's fleet glance of glittering power. Like a pampas thistle the wind along, With my song I go.

Atlantis arises with her dual world Of North and South, a titanic hourglass with running sands. At the Isthmus curving inward, a long line swirled, Like an hourglass of living grains Atlantis stands.

Upon either base there rests a continent And about it winds continuously a vast encircling band. An hourglass that in tides of time and blood is pent, Men are its silent sand.

579 EMILIO ORIBE

Jamas los orbes vieran mas ilustres racirnos de estados, Jamas pueblos mas libres lucieran venablos mas potentes. La Belleza asume su miel de exagonos dorados Y la eternidad esta ascendiendo del rudo cuarzo a las frentes.

Sobre estas colinas con vientres de infinitas promesas Donde aun agrupase un enigma de tribus al pie de volcanes. La noche sabe bien por que aviva liturgicas paves as Y por que los vientos lloran, mordidos por lamentos de titanes.

Lejos, ponen sierpe en escudo las razas con odio funesto, Y se degradan en purpureo holocausto las frentes mas nobles. Levantad, oh labios, la plegaria del amor manifiesto. Vestios, oh santuarios, con florecidos robles.

Noche a noche enciendense

mas aulas para que el Espiritu batalk Y cuaja el trigo su joya entre la gleba y la bruma. La tierra se coloca su mascara de montana y de valle, Y el oceano danza

a sus pies la danza del abismo y la espuma.

la Canta noche un himno que imanta a los estuarios, Trabaja en el zodiaco la colgante sinfonia, Contemplad miles de obreros con diamantinos sudarios; Decoran dia a dia la torre de la invencible Utopia.

Invencible, por real. desnuda del caos al Emerge ? que engendrarla huye. La Atlantida actual, la que no se destruye, Brilla entre dos oceanos como custodia entre dos manos. La Babel en la cual

los hermanos no se : piensan y odian aqui se construye. Ya hacen signos a nuestras torres

Las torres de los mundos lejanos.

580 EMILIO ORIBE

A more splendid cluster of States earth never looked upon, Mightier lances freer peoples never raised since time began. Beauty builds up her honey in golden hexagon, And from rough quartz eternity ascends to brow of Man.

Over these hills wombed with promise infinite,

Where an enigma of tribes at the volcanoes' feet crowds still, Night is well aware why liturgic sparks are lit And why, gashed by lament of Titans, winds wail shrill

Afar races schooled in hatred set a serpent on their shield, Noblest brows are in empurpled holocaust abased,

Oh, lips, plegaries of love manifest be your yield !

Oh, sanctuaries, with blossoming oak be your altars dressed !

Nightly vaster naves

are lighted for the Spirit's battle, And the wheat its betwixt shapes jewel cloud and loam ; Earth dons her mask of mountain and of valley And the Ocean's waves

dance at her feet their dance of gulf and foam.

Night chants a hymn, Sea's estuaries magnetizing, The Zodiac's swinging symphony throbs hour by hour. Look on myriad workers in adamantine shrouds arising: Daily they exalt invincible Utopia's tower.

Invincible, because real. Stripped and straight it emerges from chaos vanquished by its birth.

The new Atlantis never to be toppled down to earth Shines between two oceans like the monstrance twixt two hands. Babel's tower ideal

Wherein brothers take thought and hate not, and build that which stands.

Now unto our towers signalling are Towers of worlds afar.

581 EMILIO ORIBE

Aqui mismo, Junto a la bruma del mar, Yo oi tablar al abismo En estrofas de espuma o pluma de paloma. Dijo: La Atlantida es la copa De bordes desmesuradamente abiertos, Donde vida eterna asoma

Y donde comulgan juntos los vivos y los muertos.

Si algulen nos ha de mandar, que un Dios nos mande. Y ante El, cadena de nudos de arena sea el Ande. Tres Americas desgarran imperios de nieblas. Tres Americas se arrojan mas alia de los mares dudosos. Ven pueblos martires en lucha con el belico angel de las tiniebla* Y espadon les ofrecen, o la lampara de los lares dichosos.

El hombre, en tanto, avanza

en la nave cuyos remos son siglos catnbiante< Si del abismo triunfa

es porque busca el fulgor de los fijos lucero^ Atlantida lo alienta en su mastil de milagros constantes, Y alii irrumpe su hacha de llama en diafanos regueros, Cuando pisen los hombres la roca de los astros distantes, Jure estar uno de nosotros entre los primeros Y ultimos marineros Tripulantes.

Vigilad, si sois libres, con las claves en los brazos robustos, De pie, en inminencia de tragicos dramas, O apoyados en porticos nevados de los Andes augustos.

582 EMILIO ORIBE

In this place, here, Amid the ocean mist

I heard the abyss Speak strophes soft as dove's plumage or foam of the sea. "Atlantis is a cup 5 Inexhaustible/ it said; "Whither eternal life draws near And wherefrom take communion the quick and the dead/*

If any must command us, let a God command. And in His sight may the Andes be but as grains of sand. Three Americas rake empirics of cloud-encompassed might, Three Americas fling themselves beyond the doubting ocean. They see martyred peoples wrestling with the martial Angel of the Night And they offer a sword for fighting or a home for heart's devotion.

Meanwhile, Man moves forward in the coracle of which

changing centuries are the oars; If he triumphs over the abyss, it is because he steers by light of the fixed stars.

Atlantis gives him courage with her miracle-working mast, And there in scattered fog her flaming axe flares forth anew. When men on rock of distant planets shall set foot Swear that one of us shall be among the first and last Pioneering voyagers Of that crew.

Be vigilant, if you are free, strong arms your safeguard. ever for Standing ready tragic dramas that may transpire, Or on Andes watch snowy portals keep and ward ;

583 EMILIO ORIBE

Porque donde Bolivar y Washington pusieron su pie de vividas llamas, Jamas permltamos que se humille a la mas leve avecilla.

Afirme nuestra sangre en actos las duras proclaims Y el mando prometeico nos impida doblar la rodilla.

En la mirada serena Dios se la de la De un ? para slempre fijo figura Atlantida, Corno joya del Tiempo, preciosa. Bien estrecha en el Istmo, es un gran relo] de arena. La sangre silenciosa que de nuestro pecho fluye, como un fuego^ la inunda. El frontal ceruleo que desde lo eterno la engendra, y circunda, Y construye, diceme:

Oh ! Oh arena ! Oh ! Oh nebulosa ! j clepsidra [ j sangre j America es la imagen del Tiempo, que no se destruye ni reposa.

Si alguien nos ha de mandar, que un Dios nos mande. Un canto, en la gloria del cielo de Atlantida se levanta, O hacia el Ande, Donde el condor retorna en crepuscular revolar taciturno,

Es noche. A todos anuncio un pensamiento que canta. Sois heroes ?

Descifradlo en el cordaje del oleaje nocturno. en unicos el Porque pensamientos 5 y creadores, universo, En de dioses se va a disputas ? aqui expresar. Cada cumbre andina es la letra de un gran alfabeto disperso.

Oh hermanos del Norte : Solo unidos lo vamos a descifrar.

584 EMILIO ORIBE

For where Bolivar and Washington have left their prints of fire We will not permit that even a sparrow humbled be.

In deeds our blood signs the stern proclamation And the Promethean mandate forbids that we bend knee.

In the glance sublime Of a God, the figure of Atlantis eternally was stayed As the precious jewel of Time. Very narrow in the Isthmus is the hourglass made. Our muted heartsblood flowing Inundates it like a flame. The cerulean band

that out of eternity begot

And surrounds and binds it, says to me, "Oh hourglass, oh blood, oh mist, oh sand, America is Time's image that is not destroyed Nor rests not."

If any must command us, let a God command. A song lifts toward the glory of the sky of Atlantis, Or toward the Andes the Whither condor returns in dusky circling flight.

It is night. A thought that sings I tell. Are you heroes ?

Unriddle it in cordage of the tides of night. Because the Universe in thoughts creative and unique In godlike discussions here will speak. A letter in a vast scattered alphabet is each Andean peak. Oh brothers of the North, only united can we make out what

they spell. M.L.

Appendix

NOTAS BlOGRAFICAS Y BlBLIOGRAFICAS 588

BIOGRAPHICAL AND BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTES 589

Los TRADUCTORES THE TRANSLATORS 650

INDICE ONOMASTICO INDEX OF NAMES 651

INDICE 654

INDEX 655 y FOR H. R. HAYS

ABRIL, XAVIER [Peru] Lima, 1903-

H'oilywood (1922) Difictt trabajo (1935) Descubrimiento del alba (1937) La rosa escrita (inedito) Abril, que ha vlajado por Europa, se asocio con los surrealistas de Paris y ue en cierto momento un protegido de Cocteau. El estilo de su obra ioicial es surrealista, mientras que su poesia reciente se aveclna al romanticlsmo neo-simbolico.

ADAN, MARTIN (Rafael de la Fuente Benavldes) [Peru]

* I ' Lilm> 9o8 La cam dc cartdn (1928)

Adan s como Westphalen, estudio en la Escuela Alernana de Lima, Logro acreditarse por la prlmera vez con un trabajo publicado en las de columnas Amauta. Fue el creador de lo que Mariategui llamo el esto es el soneto de anti-soneto, ? estructura clasica pero con las caractensticas de los versos modernos sometidos a la tecnica actual. La casa de en carton, novek verso, ha tenido repercusiones profun-

, das en la Hteratura peruana. Aloysius Acl^er, larguislmo poema que el autor propio destruyera despues, es altamente apreclado por los critlcos que ban leido partes de el.

E0UARDO ANGUITA, [Chile] Santiago, 1914- de la chilena Antologia poesia nueva (1935) Eduardo es uno de los Anguita poetas mas jovenes de vanguardla de Chile. En su de la Antologia poesia chilena nueva (en colabora- cion con Volodia su unica obra Teitelboim, y ya publicada) aparece 588 Biographical and Bibliographical Notes BY H. R. HAYS

ABRIL, XAVIER [Peru] Lima, 1903-

H'oily wood (1922) Dtficil trabajo (1935) Descubrimiento del alba (1937) La rosa escrita (unpublished} Abrll traveled in Europe, was associated with the surrealists in Paris, and was at one time a protege of Cocteau. His early work is in the surrealist style, while his more recent poetry approaches romantic neo-symbolism.

ADAN, MARTIN (Rafael de la Fuente Benavides) [Peru]

? ^ La casa de carton (1928) Adan, like Westphalen, studied in the Deutsche Schule in Lima. He first received recognition for work published in the pages of Amauta. He was the creator of what Mariategul called the anti- sonnet the sonnet classical in form but characterized by a con- temporary treatment of modern material. La casa dc cartdn, a novel in verse, has had considerable influence on Peruvian literature.

Aloysius Ac\er> a long poem which the author himself destroyed, is highly rated by critics who have read fragments of it.

ANGUITA, EDUARDO [Chile] Santiago, 1914- Antologia de la poesia chilena nueva (1935) Eduardo Anguita is one of the younger advance-guard poets of Chile. In his Antologia de la poesia chilena nueva (in collaboration with Volodia Teitelboim, and his only published book to date)

589 NOTAS BIOGRAFICAS Y B I B L I O G R A F I C A S su primera coleccion de poemas, Trdnsito al fin. Admirador de Andre Breton, Anguita resume su credo poetico asi: 'El poeta ya no debe ser un instrumento de la naturaleza, pero debe hacer de esta su instrumento.'

AREVALO MARTINEZ, RAFAEL [Guatemala] Maya (1911) Guatemala, 1884- Los atormentados (1914) La signatura de la esfinge (1933) Llama (1934) Arevalo Martinez es director de la Biblioteca Nacional de Guate- mala y presidente honorario de la Asociacion Bibliografica y Bib- liotecaria Inter-Americana. Su verso tiene vigor y flexibilidad, y su estilo, recio y contundente, matiza con frecuencia hasta lo usual de visos salvajes y extranos.

ARRIETA, RAFAEL ALBERTO [Argentina] Rauch, 1889- Las noches de oro (1917) fugacidad (1921) Estio serrano (1926) Arrieta ha sido profesor de la catedra de literatura europea en la Universidad Nacional de La Plata, donde se educo. De 1917 a 1918 fue redactor de la revista Atenea.

ASTURIAS, MIGUEL ANGEL [Guatemala] Guatemala, 1899- Rayita de estrella (1929) Sonetos (1936) Alclazdn (1940) Tras sus estudios de leyes, Asturias se dedico a hacer investigaciones en la historia de k civilizacion centroamericana. Adquirio asi eru- dicion en las culturas autoctonas de este sector de America y ha publicado, en libros y articulos, muchas obras sobre la materia. Su rnuestra la influencia de poesia aquella erudicion, pues consrituye una interpretacion entendida de esa vida india.

590 BIOGRAPHICAL AND BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTES appears his first collection of poems, Trdnsito al fin. An admirer o

Andre Breton, Anguita states his poetic credo thus : *A poet must no longer be an instrument of nature, but must make nature his instrument.'

AREVALO MARTINEZ, RAFAEL [Guatemala] Maya (1911) Guatemala, 1884- Los atormentados (1914) La signatura de la csfinge (1933) Uama (1934) Arevalo Martinez is Director of the National Library of Guate- mala and Honorary President of the Inter-American Bibliographi- cal and Library Association. His verse is vigorous and flexible, and his hard-bitten style frequently makes the matter-of-fact seem wild and strange.

ARRIETA, RAFAEL ALBERTO [Argentina] Rauch, 1889- Las noches de oro (1917) Fugacidad (1921) Estio scrrano (1926) Arrieta has been Professor of European Literature in the National University of La Plata, where he himself was educated. From 1917 to 1918 he edited the review Atenea.

ASTURIAS, MIGUEL ANGEL [Guatemala] Guatemala, 1899- Rayito de estrella (1929) Sonetos (1936) Aldazan (1940) Asturias' early studies in law were followed by research in the his- tory of Central American civilization. He became an expert on the native cultures of this region, and has published many books and articles on this subject. His poetry shows the influence of these studies, for it is a sensitive interpretation of Indian life. NOTAS BIOGRAFICAS Y BIBLIOGRAFICAS

BANDEIRA, MANUEL [Brasil] Recife, 1886- Ritmo dissolute (1924) Libertinagem (1930) Poesias escolhidas (1937) Poesias completas (1944) Bandeira fol educado no Rio de Janeiro, no Colegio Pedro Segun- do. Tem-se dedicado ativamente ao jornalismo, e compilou uma antologia dos poetas romanticos do Brasil. E' um dos mais sensiveis dos escritores brasileiros modernos.

BEDREGAL DE CONITZER, YOLANDA [ Bolivia ] La Paz, Ecos (1940) Almadia (1942) Yolanda Bedregal es hija del ilustre escritor y poeta boliviano Juan Federico Bedregal, fallecido en 1944. Estudio en el Institute Ameri- cano y en la Universidad de Columbia, Nueva York. Ha presentado esculturas en Buenos Aires, La Paz, etc., y es miembro activo

1 unica mujer del PEN Club de Bolivia. Su marido es el conocido periodista Lie. Guert Conitzer, de La Paz.

BORGES, JORGE Luis [Argentina] Buenos Aires, 1900- Fert/or de Buenos Aires (1923)

Luna de en j'rente (1925) Cuaderno San Martin (1929) Ficciones (1944) Borges estudio en Genova, Suiza, cuando se desarrollaba la prl- mera guerra mundial; vivio despues en Espana, donde se asocio con los ultraistas, cuya cabeza fue Rafael Cansinos Assens. Esta escuela represento el movimiento espanol de avanzada, equiva- lente en lineas generales al surrealismo en Paris o al creacionismo de Huidobro en Chile. Cuando en 1921 Borges regreso a Buenos Aires, promovio cierta agitacion en los circulos poeticos argentinos, aguijoneando a los pvenes hacia nuevas formas de expresion. Fue uno de los fundadores de las revistas Prisma y Proa. Tradujo a escritores de talla como Virginia Woolf, Andre Gide, Kafka y Faulkner; asurnio, en fin, un puesto de mando dentro de la nueva poesfa.

592 BIOGRAPHICAL AND BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTES

BANDEIRA, MANUEL [Brazil] Recife, 1886- Ritmo dissoluto (1924) Libertinagem (1930) Poesias escolhidas (1937) Poesias completas (1944) Bandeira was educated in Rio de Janeiro at the College of Pedro II. He has been active as a journalist and has edited an anthology of the Brazilian romantic poets. He is among the most sensitive of the modern Brazilians.

BEDREGAL DE CONITZER, YOLANI>A [ Bolivia] La Paz, Ecos (1940) Almadia (1942) Yolando Bedregal's father was the illustrious Bolivian poet Juan Federico Bedregal, who died in 1944. She studied at the Instituto Americano, and in Columbia University, New York. She has given shows of her sculpture in Buenos Aires, La Paz, etc., and is the only active woman member of the PEN Club of Bolivia. Her husband is the distinguished journalist Guert Conitzer, of La Paz.

BORGES, JORGE Luis [Argentina] Buenos Aires, 1900- Fervor de Buenos Aires (1923) Luna de enfrente (1925) Cuaderno San Martin (1929) Ficciones (1944) Borges studied in Geneva, Switzerland, during the first World War, and later lived in Spain, where he was associated with the Ultraista movement, of which Rafael Cansinos Assens was the leader. This movement was the advance-guard activity of Spain, roughly equivalent to surrealism in Paris or to Huidobro's Crea- tionism in Chile. When Borges returned to Buenos Aires in 1921, he created a ferment in Argentinian poetry and stimulated young writers to seek for new forms of expression. He was one of the founders of the reviews Prisma and Proa. He translated such writers as Andre and and Virginia Woolf, Gide, Kafka, Faulkner, generally assumed a leading position in the poetic movement.

593 NOTAS BIOGRAFICAS Y BI B LI O GR A F I C A S

BUSTAMANTE Y BALLIVIAN, ENRIQUE [Peru] 1884-1937 Poem as autoctonos (1920) Antipoetnas (1926) Junin (1930) Bustamante y Ballivian llevo la representacion del gobierno del Peril al Uruguay, Brasil y Bolivia. En sus postrimerias ue director de una casa editora que publico obras de muchos poetas jovenes del Peru. Su obra personal fue eclectica, pues, respondiendo a las variaciones en el genero poetico de su tiempo, paso por varias fases. Sus liltimos poemas lo colocan entre los indigenistas de la escuela de Peralta.

CADILLA, CARMEN ALICIA [Puerto Rico] Arecibo, 1908- Canciones en ftauta blanca (1934) Raices azules (1936) Voz de las islas intimas (1939) Ala y anda (1940) Carmen Alicia Cadilla vive en San Juan y participa en la direccion de la revista Alma Latina. De inspiration catolica y sensibilidad poetica, sus versos tienen a veces algo del dejo de los de Gabriela Mistral.

CANE, Luis [Argentina] Mercedes, 1897- Mal estudiante (1925) Tiempo de vivir (1927) Romancero del Rio de la Plata (1936) Bailes y copleria (1941) Como algunos de los poetas espanoles contemporaneos, Cane ha vuelto a las formas del romance del siglo diecisiete y las utiliza en sus empenos modernistas. Contrariamente a Garcia Lorca, que se intereso en el romance popular, Cane toma su estilo de las formas literarias sutiles y rebuscadas. Sus romances del Rio de la Plata estan saturados de la region y constituyen lozanas interpretaciones de episodios de la historia argentlna.

CANTON, WILBERO L. [Mexico] Merida, 1922- Segunda estacion (1943) Wilberto L. Canton es colaborador permanente del diario Excelsior de Mexico. Fundo y dirige las ediciones literarias Espiga. Es redac-

594 BIOGRAPHICAL AND BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTES

BUSTAMANTE Y BALLIVIAN, ENRIQUE [Peru] 1884-1937 Poemas autoctonos (1920) Antipoemas (1926) Junin (1930) Bustamante y Ballivian represented die government of Peru in Uruguay, Brazil and Bolivia. In his later years he was the director of a publishing house which brought out many of the younger Peruvian poets. His own work was eclectic, passing through vari- ous phases in response to the changing poetic interests of his time. In his last group of poems he identified himself with the Indigenis- tas of the school of Peralta.

CADILLA, CARMEN ALICIA [Puerto Rico] Arecibo, 1908- Candones en ftauta blanca (1934) Raices azuks (1936) Voz de las islas intlmas (1939) Ala y ancla (1940) Carmen Alicia Cadilla lives in San Juan and is an editor of the periodical Alma Latina. She is a sensitive poet of Catholic inspira- tion whose verses suggest the influence of Gabriela Mistral

CANE, Luis [Argentina] Mercedes, 1897- Mal estudiante (1925) Tiempo de vivir (1927) Romancero del Rio dc la Plata (1936) Bailes y copleria (1941) Cane, like some of the contemporary Spanish poets, has returned to the ballad forms of the seventeenth century and employed them for modern purposes. Unlike Garcia Lorca, who interested himself in the popular ballad, Cane derives his style from the sophisticated and literary forms. His ballads of the Rio de la Plata are strongly regional fresh interpretations of episodes in Argentinian history.

CANTON, WILBERTO L. [Mexico] Merida, 1922- Segunda estacion (1943) Wilberto L. Canton is a permanent contributor to the Mexico City daily, Excelsior. He founded and directs the Espiga literary series,

595 NOTAS BIOGRAFICAS Y B I B L I O GR A F I C A S tor de Letras de Mexico, la revista literaria mas antigua de Mexico. Ejerce la critica literaria y ha tentado el relato, la biografia, y la Ikeratura infantil.

Luis Guatemala CARDOZA Y ARAGON, [ ] 1904- Luna Parl^ (1923) Maelstrom (1926) Torre de Babel (1930) El sondmbulo (1937) Cardoza y Aragon es un poeta centroamericano de' gusto cosmo- polita. Se nota en el la influencia de los poetas franceses moderaos, y, mas recientemente, de la poderosa personalidad de Garcia Lorca.

CARRANZA, EBXJARDO [Colombia] 1915- Canciones para iniciar la fiesta (1936) Carranza es miembro del grupo Piedra y Cielo, la tendencia poetica mas reciente de Colombia. Sus versos rompen con la tradicion y se distlnguen por su fantasia novel. Carranza es considerado como uno de los poetas de la nueva generacion que mas prometen en Colombia.

CARRERA ANDRADE, JORGE [Ecuador] Quito, 1903- Registro del mundo: antologia poetica (1940) los A quince anos de edad Carrera Andrade era ya redactor jefe de la revista La Idea. Ha servido a su pais activamente como periodis- ta los s y despues como diplomatico. Durante 1920 vivio en Ale- mania, Francia y Espana. En 1933 fue Consul del Ecuador en Paita, Peru. Regreso mas tarde a Francia y se hizo cargo de la editorial Cuadernos del Hombre Nuevo. Su libro Biografia para uso de los pdjaros fue traducido al frances por Edmond Vandercammen. Es- tuvo el en Japon en 1938, donde se ensayo en el estilo hai-kai, publi- cando un pequeno tomo de poemas. Al siguiente afio visito la China.

De la poesia de Carrera Andrade, William Carlos Williams ha dicho: *No se cuando he sentid' on placer tan neto, tan ajeno a ks torturas del pensamiento, que son nuestro pan cotidiano. Las son imagenes tan nitidas, y estan tan ligadas a lo primitivo, que me supongo estar viendo por ojos de un aborigen y compartiendo

596 BIOGRAPHICAL AND BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTES

and edits Letras de Mexico, the oldest of the Mexican literary re- views. He writes criticism, and has experimented with the short story, biography, and children's books.

CARDOZA Y ARAGON, Luis [Guatemala] 1904-

Maelstrom (1926) Torre de Babel (1930) El sondmbulo (1937) Cardoza y Aragon is a Central American poet of cosmopolitan tastes who has been influenced by modern French poets and, more recently, by the powerful impact of Garcia Lorca.

CARRANZA, EDUARDO [Colombia] 1915- la Canciones para iniciar -fiesta (1936) Carranza is a member of the Piedra y Cielo group, the youngest movement in Colombian poetry. His verse marks a break with tradition and is distinguished by a novel fantasy. He is considered one of the most promising poets of the new generation in Colombia.

CARRERA ANDRADE, JORGE [Ecuador] Quito, 1903- Registro del mundo: antologia poetica (1940) Carrera Andrade at fifteen was editor of the review La Idea. He has led an active life as a journalist and later as a diplomat. During the 1920*8 he lived in Germany, France and Spain. In 1933 he was con- sul for Ecuador in Paita, Peru. Later he returned to France and became director of the publishing house Cuadernos del Hombre Nuevo* His book Biograjia para uso de los pdjaros was translated into French by Edmond Vandercammen. In 1938 he was in Japan, where he experimented with the hoJ^u form, publishing a small book of poems in this medium. The following year he visited China.

Of Carrera Andrade's poetry William Carlos Williams has said : 1 don't know when I have had so clear a pleasure, so unaffected by the torments of the mind which are our daily bread. The images are so extraordinarily clear, so related to the primitive, that I think

597 NOTAS BIOGRAFICAS Y B I B L I O G R A F I C A S del panorama perdido del universe. Es un placer rnelancolico, pero soberbio.* La lozana proximidad de estos versos, asi como la extra- ordinaria Inventiva y el agudo ingenio que hay en ellos, hace que constituyan una contribution senalada en las letras americanas.

CARRION, ALEJANDRO Loja, 1915- Luz del nuevo paisaje (1935) Carrion curso leyes en la Universidad Central de Quito, mas no llego a terminar sus estudios. Sus primeras producciones literarias aparecieron en las diferentes reviras publicadas por el grupo Elan, al que pertenecian Jose Alfredo Llerena, Jorge Fernandez, Augusto Sacotto Arias, y otros. Fue igualmente uno de los Miembros Fun- dadores del Sindicato de Escrkores Ecuatorianos.

CARVALHO, RONALD DE [Brasil] Rio de Janeiro, 1893-1935 Luz gloriosa (1914) Poemas e sonetos (1919) Epigramas irSnicos e sentimentau (1922) Toda a America (1926) Jogos pueris (1926) Imagem do Mexico (1930) Depois de estudar direito no Brasil, Ronald de Carvalho foi, em 1913, para a Europa, afim-de continuar os seus estudos de filosofia e sociologia. Em 1914 entrou para o Ministerio das Relagoes Ex- teriores do Brasil pnde ocupou varies postos, inclusive o de Ministro Plenipotenciario e Enviado Especial. Fez parte das embaixadas brasileiras em Paris e na Haia. Em 1932 visitou o Mexico a convite daquele pafs. Durante toda a sua vida foi jornalista ativo, escre- vendo para periodkos brasileiros, franceses e norteamericanos.

CASTRO Z., OSCAR [Chile] Rancagua, 1910- Camtno en el alba (1938) Viaje del alba a la noche (1940) Oscar Castro Z. fue reportero del diario izquierdista La Tribuna. Fundo la revlsta quincenal Nada, y fue su director, impresor y unico redactor. Ha ganado premios en dos concursos literarios cele* brados en Buenos Aires. Responso a Garcia Lorca es su poema mas conocido y popularizado en America.

598 BIOGRAPHICAL AND BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTES

I am seeing as an aborigine saw and sharing that lost view of the world. It is a sad pleasure, but a great one/ The fresh immediacy of this verse, together with its extraordinary invention and sharp wit, makes it a signal contribution to American literature.

CARRION, ALEJANDRO Loja, 1915- Luz del nuevo paisaje (1935) Carrion studied law in the Central University of Quito, but did not complete his course. His first writings appeared in the various reviews published by the Elan group, to which belonged Jose Alfredo Llerena, Jorge Fernandez, Augusto Sacotto Arias, and others. He was also one of the Founding Members of the Sindicato de Escritores Ecuatorianos.

CARVALHO, RONALD DE [Brazil] Rio de Janeiro, 1893-1935 Luz gloriosa (1914) Poemas e sonetos (1919) Epigramas ironicos e sentimental* (1922) T6da a America (1926) Jogos fueris (1926) Imagem do Mexico (1930) After studying law in Brazil, Carvalho in 1913 went to Europe to continue his education in philosophy and sociology. In 1914 he en- tered the State Department of Brazil and filled a number of posi- "tions, including that of Minister Plenipotentiary and Special Envoy. He was a member of the Brazilian Embassies in Paris and The Hague. In 1932 he visited Mexico as a guest of the nation. Through- out his life he was active as a journalist, writing for Brazilian, French and North American publications.

CASTRO Z., OSCAR [Chile] Rancagua, 1910- Camino en el alba (1938) Viaje del alba a la noche (1940) Oscar Castro Z. was a reporter on the Leftist daily La Tribuna. He founded the fortnightly Nada, of which he was editor, printer and sole contributor. He has won two literary contests in Buenos Aires. Response a Garcia Lorca is his best known poem, and has become a favourite throughout the Americas.

599 NOTAS BIOGRAFICAS Y B I B L I O G R A F I C A S

DEL PICCHIA, MENOTTI [Brasil] Sao Paulo, 1892- Poemas do vicio e da virtude (1913) Moyses (1917) Chuva de pedra (1925) KummunJ^d (1938) Del Picchia estudou direito na sua cidade natal, e foi chefe pro- visorio do Servlgo Piiblico do Estado de Sao Paulo. Durante algum tempo foi redator politico do Correio Paulistano, assim como tarn- bem redator da revista A Cigarra. As suas obras sao repassadas das cenas e dos sons da sua terra natal, e demonstram recursos extraor- dinarios no que diz respeito ao seu emprego de metaforas.

DRUMMOND DE ANDRADE, CARLOS [Brasil] Itabira, 1902- Alguma poesia (1932) Erejo das Almas (1934) Drummond de Andrade, um dos mais requintados escritores brasi- leiros modernos, emprega o colorido regional, contempkndo o provincialismo do seu pats com uma afeicao algo motejadora. A sua poesia e ironica, sensivel, e cheia de paixao tropical.

D'SOLA, OTTO [Venezuela] Valencia, 1912- Accnto X^935) Prescncia (1938) DC la soledad y las vision e$ (1941)

El viajero mortal ( 19*43) Editor: Antologla de la moderna poesia venezolana (1940) D'Sokj uno de los redactores de Viernes, y dirigente entre el grupo de avanzada de aquel nombre, es de los poetas que mas prometen en Venezuela. No ha escapado a la influencia surrealista, pero solo en la mas amplia expresion Iirica personal que le permite aquella mediante imagenes sorprendentes y ambiguas, algo que no per- turba el sobrio equilibrio de sus versos. Quizas su Antologia en dos tomos, que abarca la poesia venezolana desde 1870 hasta 1935, con- stituya su aporte mas importante a la literatura de su pafs Esto no quiere decir, sin embargo, que su propia obra no sea tambien extremadamente importante.

600 BIOGRAPHICAL AND BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTES

DEL MENQTTI PICCH1A, [Brazil] 9 Sao Paulo, 1892- Poetnas do vicio e da vinude (1913) Moyses (1917) Chuv'a dc pcdra (1925) Kummunfyd (1938) Picchia in Del studied law his native city, and has been provisional head of the Civil Service o the State of Sao Paulo. At one time he was political editor of the Correio Paulistano as well as editor of the review A Cigarra. His writing is saturated with the sights and sounds of his native land, and he is remarkably resourceful in his use of metaphor.

DRUMMOND DE ANDRADE, CARLOS [Brazil] Itabira, 1902- Alguma poesia (1932) Brejo das Almas (1934) Drummond de Andrade, one of the most sophisticated of the mod- ern Brazilians, works with local colour, regarding the provinciali- ties of his country with quizzical affection. His verse is ironic, sensitive, full of tropical fire.

D'SOLA, OTTO [Venezuela] Valencia, 1912- Acento (1935) Presencia (1938) De la soledad y las visiones (1941) El viajero mortal (1943) Editor: Antologia de la moderna poesia venezolana (1940) D'Sola, one of the editors of Viernes and a leader of the advance- guard group of that name, is one of Venezuela's most promising but to the poets. He has been touched by surrealist influence, only extent that it allows him fuller personal lyric expression by means never let it interfere of ambiguous and startling images; he has with the formal balance of his verse. Perhaps his most important contribution to the literature of his country is his two-volume Antologia, covering Venezuelan poetry from 1870 to 1935. This is is not not to say, however, that Otto D'Sola's own work extremely important in itself.

601 NOTAS BIQGRAFICAS Y BI BLI OG R AF I C A S

EGUREN, JOSE MARIA [Peru] Lima, 1882-1942 Simbolicas (1911) La cancion de las figuras (1916) Poesias (1929) Jose Maria Eguren, el primero de los siinbolistas peruanos, inicio su carrera Hteraria contribuyendo a la revista Contempordneos, de Enrique Bustamante y Ballivian. Su obra tardo algo en hallar aceptacion, mas el descubrimiento de el por el critico Mariategui lo dejo solidamente establecido en las letras, y hoy, para los mas jovenes de los escrltores, es el maestro, Su Cancion de las figuras es clertamente una de las obras que mas poderosamente ban influido dentro de la tradition simbolista de la America Latina.

ESCUDERO, GONZALO [Ecuador] Quito, 1903- Poemas del arte (1919) Parabolas olimpicas (1922) Helices de huracdn y de sol (1934) Paraldograma (1935) Escudero ha sido recientemente nombrado Ministro Plenipoten- ciario en el Uruguay. Corre pare] as con Jorge Carrera Andrade como dirigente de la poesia en su pais. Su lira es a veces epica, con trazas palpables de la influencia de Walt Whitman.

' ESTRADA, GENARO [Mexico] Mazatlan, 1887-1937 Crucero (1928) \ Escdera (1929) Paso a nivel (1933) Senderillas al ras (1934) Estrada fue en tiempos funcionario del Ministerio de Industria en Mexico; fue tambien director de los archives diplomatics e his- toricos. En 1930 ue Ministro de Estado, luego, en 1932, Embajador en Espana.

ESTRADA, RAFAEL [Costa Rica] 1901-1934 Huellas (1923) Viajes sentimentales (1924) Candones y ensayos (1929) Estrada estudio leyes y ejercio la profesion en varias ciudades de

602 BIOGRAPHICAL AND BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTES

EGUREN, JOSE MARIA [Peru] Lima, 1882-1942 Simbolicas (1911) La cancion de las figuras (1916) Poesias (1929) Jose Maria Eguren, the first of the Peruvian symbolists, began his literary career as a contributor of poems to Enrique Bustamante y Ballivian's review Conternpordneos. His work was slow to gain recognition; but the critic Mariategui's discovery of him established him firmly, and today the younger writers hail him as a master. Indeed, La cancion de las figuras is one of the most powerful in- fluences in the Latin American symbolist tradition.

ESCUDERO, GONZALO [Ecuador] Quito, 1903- Poemas del arte (1919) Parabolas olimpicas (1922) Helices de huracdn y de sol (1934) Paralelograma (1935) Escudero has recently been appointed Minister Plenipotentiary to Uruguay. He ranks with Jorge Carrera Andrade as a leader in Ecuadoran poetry. At times his work is epic in tone, showing dis- tinct traces of the influence of Walt Whitman.

ESTRADA, GENARO [Mexico] Mazatlan, 1887-1937 Crucero (1928) Escalera (1929) Paso a nii/el (1933) Senderillas al ras (1934) Estrada was at one time employed in the Ministry of Industry and Commerce of Mexico, and was also Director of the Archives of Diplomacy and History. In 1930 he was Minister of State, and Ambassador to Spain in 1932.

ESTRADA, RAFAEL [Costa Rica] 1901-1934 Hudlas (1923) Viajes sentimentales (1924) Cancionesy ensayos (1929) Estrada studied law and practised in various cities of Costa Rica.

603 NOTAS BIOGRAFICAS Y BIBLIOGRAFICAS

Costa Rica. Se intereso tambien, vivamente, en la musica, y fundo y condujo la Orquesta Sinfonka de Costa Rica.

FERRER, JOSE MIGUEL [Venezuela] Caracas, 1903- Cuarta dimension (1940) Huesped en la etermdad (1940) Ferrer fue Adjunto de la Legacion de Venezuela en el Ecuador en en 1927 y 1928. Forrno parte de otras misiones diplomaticas Cuba, Haiti y Panama; luego, de 1937 a 1938, fue Consul General en China; y de 1939 a 1940 sirvio en la Embajada venezolana en el Brasil.

FLORIT, EUGENIO [Cuba] Madrid, 1903- 32 poemas breves (1927) Tropico (1930) Doble acento (1937) Cuatro poemas (1940) De madre cubana y padre espanol, Florit llego a Cuba, de Madrid, a la edad de quince afios; estudio en la Universidad de La Ha- bana. Presta sus servicios en el Consulado de Cuba en Nueva York desde 1940. Se lo tiene por uno de los escritores conternporaneos de mas valia de Cuba.

FOMBONA-PACHANO, JACINTO [Venezuela] Caracas, 1901- Virajes (1932) Las torres desprevenidas (1940)

Fombona-Pachano estudio ciencias politicas en la Universidad Central de Venezuela. Siendo miembro de la Academia Vene- zolana, presto sus servicios en el Estado de Monagas como Secre- tario General; desempeno tambien un cargo en la Embajada vene- zolana de Washington. Sus primeros versos son notables por su frescura y simplicidad. Su obra subsiguiente, escrita en los anos que paso en Washington, versa sobre la crisis de la hora. Fombona- Pachano milito con el grupo Viernes, y se le concepttia como uno de los mas notables poetas vivientes de Venezuela.

604 BIOGRAPHICAL AND BIBLIOGRAPHICAL N Q T Jt b

He was also much interested in music, and founded and conducted the Costa Rican Symphony Orchestra.

FERRER, JOSE MIGUEL [Venezuela] Caracas, 1903- Cuarta dimension (1940) Huesped en la eternidad (1940) In 1927 and 1928 Ferrer was an attache in the Venezuelan Legation in Ecuador. He also served on diplomatic missions to Cuba, Haiti and Panama; was Consul General in China from 1937 to 1938; and in 1939 and 1940 was a member of the Venezuelan Embassy in Brazil.

FLORIT, EUGENIO [ Cuba ] Madrid, 1903- 32 poemas breves (1927) Tropico (1930) Doble acento (1937) Cuatro poemas (1940) Florit's mother was Cuban, his father Spanish. At the age of fifteen he came to Cuba from Madrid and studied in the University of Havana. Since 1940 he has served in the Cuban Consulate in New York. He is considered one of the most important of the contempo- rary Cuban writers.

FOMBONA-PACHANO, JACINTO [Venezuela] Caracas, 1901- Virajes (1932) Las torres desprevenidas (1940)

Fombona-Pachano studied political science in the Central Univer- sity of Venezuela. A member of the Venezuelan Academy, he has served as Secretary General of the State of Monagas, and also in the Venezuelan Embassy at Washington. His earlier verse is no- table for its fresh, naive qualities. His second volume, written dur- ing the Washington years, deals with the contemporary crisis. Fom- bona-Pachano has been associated with the Viernes group, and is rated as one of the most distinguished of the living Venezuelan poets.

605 NOTAS BIOGRAFICAS Y B I BL I OGRA FI C A S

FRANCO, Luis L. [Argentina] Belen, 1898- Libro del gay vivir (1923) Los trabajos y los dias (1928) Suma (1938) En 1924, Franco, por su Ubro del gay mvir, recibio un premio otor- gado por la ciudad de Buenos Aires. Su poesia regional, vivaz, alerta, esta grandemente influenciada por los localismos folkloricos.

GIRONDO, OLIVERIO [Argentina] Buenos Aires, 1891- Veinte poemas para ser leidos en el tranvia (1922) Calcomanias (1925) Espantapdjaros (1932) Persuasion de los dias (1942) La obra inicial de Girondo ha sido comparada con las vifietas dies- tramente ejecutadas de Paul Morand. Asuntos que pudieron haber sido unicarnente pictoricos, cobran encanto y variedad merced a la habilidad con que Girondo teje sus metaforas e ironia.

GONZALEZ Y CONTRERAS, GILBERTO [El Salvador] Piedra india (1938) ^ Izalco, 1904- Trinchera (1940) Fuera de ser un literato versatil, Gonzalez y Contreras es un lucha- dor Infatigable que defiende a las masas. Es, ademas, un devoto de la causa unionista centroamericana, y ha padecido el exilio por sus opiniones politicas. En 1031 fue secretario de la Federation Obrera Salvadorena. Su carrera literaria ha sido realzada con la direccion

que ha asumido de varias revistas y periodicos, entre ellos Prisma j Vida de El Salvador, y El Tiempo de Guatemala.

GONZALEZ MARTINEZ, ENRIQUE [Me'xico] Prdudios (1903) Guadalajara (Jal), 1871- SiUnter (1907) Los senderos ocultos (1911) La muerte del cisne (1915) Parabolas y otros poernas (1918) Ausenda y canto (1937) El diluvio de fuego (1938)

606 BIOGRAPHICAL AND BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTES

Luis L. FRANCO, [Argentina] Belen, 1898- JJbro del gay vivir (1923) Los trabajos y los dias (1928) Suma (1938) In 1924, Franco was awarded a prize for his Libro del gay vivir by the of Buenos Aires* city His poetry is regionalist, crisp and alert in tone, and considerably influenced by local folk-forms.

OLIVERIO GIRONDO, [Argentina] Buenos Aires, 1891- Veinte poemas fara ser leidos en el tranvia (1922) Calcomanias (1925) Espantapdjaros (1932) Persuasion de los dias (1942)

Girondo's early work has been compared to the skilfully drawn vignettes of Paul Morand. Subjects which might have been merely pictorial gain variety and charm through the cleverness of his metaphors and the play of his irony.

GONZALEZ Y CONTRERAS, GILBERTO [El Salvador] Piedra india (1938) Izalco, 1904- Trinchera (1940)

Gonzalez y Contreras, besides being a versatile man of letters, is a tireless fighter on the side of the masses. He is devoted to the cause of Central American unity, and has suffered exile for his political views. In 1931 he was Secretary of the Salvadorean Labour Party. His literary career has been marked by the editorship of several reviews and journals, among them Prisma and Vida of El Salva- dor, and El Tiempo of Guatemala.

GONZALEZ MARTINEZ, ENRIQUE [Mexico]

Preludios (1903) Guadalajara (Jal.) , 1871- Silenter (1907) Los senderos ocultos (1911) La muerte del cisne (1915) Parabolas y otros poemas (1918) Ausencia y canto (1937) El dttuvio de fuego (1938)

607 NOTAS BIOGRAFICAS Y B I B L I O G R A F I C A S

Poesia 1898-1938 (1940) Poetnas 1939-1940 (1940) Enrique Gonzalez Martinez es uno de los poetas mas celebrados de Mexico y una figura de insondable importancia en la literatura contemporanea de America. Mas que ningun otro adalid, el es res- ponsable de la revuelta contra la retorica decorativa de la escuela de Ruben Dano. De su obra roquena, lucida, sin hojarasca ex- traen los nuevos poetas mucha de su fuerza. No es exagerado dear que su soneto sobre el Cisne, empleado como epigrafe general de esta antologia, es el manifiesto del post-Modernismo uno de los hitos mas significativos en la literatura universal.

GOROSTIZA, JOSE [Mexico] Mexico, 1901- Candoncs para cantar en las barcas (1925)

Mmrte sin fin (1939) Como Albert! en Espana y Cane en Argentina, Gorostiza se ha visto fuertemente influenciado por los cuitos romances espanoles del siglo diecisiete. El vierte una sensibilidad moderna y temas con- temporaneos en los moldes tradicionales. En otros momentos tra- baja en un ambito mas suelto, pues combina el impresionismo con un cierto modulo de disciplina en la frase, que el ha adquirido en el curso de su instruction clasica.

GUILLEN, NICOLAS [Cuba] Camagiiey, 1904- Motivos de son (1930) Songoro cosongo (1931) West Indies Ltd. (1937) Sones para turistas y cantos para soldados (1937) Guillen, que se preparo en leyes en la Universidad de la Habana, ha desempenado cargos en el Gobierno y redactado los Archivos del Folklore Cubano. Es activo conferenciante y periodista. En cierta ocasion presento su candidatura a la alcaldia de su pueblo natal. De ascendencia afroespaiiola, es adalid de la escuela poetica afrocubana. Fue el quien introdujo el canto folklorlco regional en la literatura, y quien convirtio el folklore africano, todavia corrien- te en las Antillas, en material artistico de tanta popularidad. Su primera poesia muestra la influencia de Villon y Baudelaire, y todos sus escritos estan saturados de pi Dtcsta. Sus convicciones marxistas lo impelen a buscar formas de expreslon populares con el fin de

608 BIOGRAPHICAL AND BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTES

Poesia 1898-1938 (1940) Poemas 1939-1940 (1940) Enrique Gonzalez Martinez, one of the most celebrated o Mexican poets, is a figure o incalculable importance in contemporary Amer- ican literature. He, more than any other single force, is responsible for the revolt against the decorative rhetoric o the school of Ruben Dario. From his work stripped, hard, clear the new poets derive much of their strength. It is no exaggeration to say that his sonnet on the Swan, used as a general epigraph for this anthology, is the manifesto of post-Modernism one of the significant landmarks in world literature.

GOROSTIZA, JOSE [Mexico] Mexico, 1901- Cancioncs para cantar en las barcas (1925) Mucrte sin fin (1939) Like Alberti of Spain and Cane of Argentina, Gorostiza has been strongly influenced by the cultivated Spanish ballads of the seven- teenth century. He brings a modern sensitivity and contemporary material to traditional forms. At other times he works in a freer manner, combining impressionism with a certain discipline of phrase which he has acquired from his classical training.

GUILLEN, NICOLAS [Cuba] Camagiiey, 1904- Motivos de son (1930) Songoro cosongo (1931) West Indies Ltd. (1937) Soncs para turistas y cantos para soldados (1937) Guillen, who studied law in the University of Havana, has held government positions and has edited the Archives of Cuban Folk- lore. He is also active as a lecturer and journalist, and once ran for mayor of his native town. Of African and Spanish descent, he is a leader of the Afro-Cuban school of poetry. It was he who brought the son, the local Cuban folksong, into literature and made African folklore, which is still current in the Antilles, popular as artistic material. His earlier poetry shows the influence of Villon and Bau- delaire, and all of his writing is steeped in social protest. His Marx- ist convictions have led him to look for popular forms in order to challenge a wide audience. In his ballads and his dance lyrics he

609 NOTAS BIOGRAFICAS Y BI BL I OCR AFI C A S ganarse la atencion de una vasta audiencia. En sus romances y en sus sones ataca a su pueblo carnal por sus pretensiones sociaks y trata de imbuirle conciencia de lo que es la explotacion y de las razones de su pobreza. En la poesia de la America Latina, el repre- senta una de las evoluciones mas nuevas y ha hecho ya mas que ningun otro artista por cimentar la cultura negra contemporanea.

HEREDIA, JOSE RAMON [Venezuela] Trujillo, 1900- Paisajes y condones (1928) Por caminos nuevos (1933) Los espejos de mds alia (1938) Gong en el tiempo (1941) Heredia forma parte del grupo Viernes. Su primera labor fue de ensayo, y siguio siendolo hasta Los espejos, en que demuestra haber desarrollado por eatero la madurez de su estilo, que lo coloca entre los surrealistas. Algunas imagenes suyas acusan la influencia de Pablo Neruda,

HERRERA S., DEMETRIO [Panama] 1902- Mis primeros trinos (1924) Koda\ (1937) La fiesta de San Cristobal (1937) Los poemas del pueblo (1939) Mulato nacldo en la mayor pobreza, Herrera se educo casi solo^.Su primer libro ue de escaso valor, pero en Koda\ hizo gala de maestria completa en su airoso y acrobatico estilo, lleno de fan-

tasias brillantes y observaciones agiles. El critico Rodrigo Miro lo 4 describe como un ironico e inteligente espectador del teatro del mundo.'

HUERTA, EFRAIN [Mexico] Mexico, 1914- Absoluto amor (1935) Linea del alba (1936) Efrain Huerta ha sido redactor de Nuevo Mundo y de El Popular. Su obra austera, seca, hondamente apasionada lo seiiala como una de las figuras mas impoitantes de la nueva generacion literaria de Mexico*

610 BIOGRAPHICAL AND BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTES attacks his own people for their social pretensions and tries to sting them into a consciousness of exploitation and the reasons for their poverty. He represents one o the newest movements in Latin American poetry and has done more than any other single artist to lay the foundation for a contemporary Negro culture.

HEREDIA, JOSE RAMON [Venezuela] Trujillo, 1900- Paisajesy canciones (1928) For caminos nucvos (1933) Los espejos de mas alia (1938) Gong en el tiempo (1941) Heredia is a member of the Viernes group. His early work was ten- tative, and it was not until Los espejos that he 'fully developed the mature style which places him among the surrealists. Some of his imagery suggests the influence of Pablo Neruda.

HERRERA S,, DEMETRIO [Panama] 1902- Mis primeros tnnos (1924) $Loda\ (1937) La Fiesta de San Cristobal (1937) Los poemas del pueblo (1939) A mulatto born in extreme poverty, Herrera is almost completely self-educated. His first book was of negligible value, but in Kodaf^ he displayed complete mastery of a lithe, acrobatic style, full of brilliant conceits and agile perceptions. The critic Rodrigo Miro describes him as 'an ironical and intelligent spectator in the theatre of the world'.

HUERTA, EFRAIN [Mexico] Mexico, 1914-

' Absoluto amor (1935) Linea del alba (1936) Efrain Huerta has edited Nuevo Mundo and El Popular. His austere, dry, but deeply impassioned work marks him as one of the most important members of the new literary generation in Mexico.

611 NOTAS BIOGRAFICAS Y B I BLI O GR A F I G A S

HUIDOBRO, VICENTE [Chile] Santiago, 1893- El espejo de agua (1916) Salsons chomes (1921) Manifestos (1925) Tout a coup (1925) Temblor de cielo (1931) Altazor (1931) El ciudadano del olvido (1941) Very palpar (1941) Huidobro, que paso una buena parte de su vida en Paris y Madrid, introdujo el experimentalismo europeo en la literatura chilena. Su obra Iiallo poco favor en su pais, y el gano la reputacion de enfant terrible por la violencia de sus polemicas. En una conferencia que 5 dlcto en 1916, en Buenos Aires, lanzo su 'Greacionismo que, ase- vera el, no es una tendencia, sino una teoria estetica. Esta escuela puso enfasis en la hechura de nuevas variantes de imagenes, y como Huidobro juzga que la imagen es cosa independiente de idioma, escribio una gran parte de su obra en trances. Sus ideas influyeron considerablemente en Espana y la America Latina.

IBANEZ, ROBERTO [Uruguay] Montevideo, 1907- Olas (1925) La danza de los horizontes (1927) Mitologia de la sangre (1939) Ibaiiez dicta clases de literatura en la Universidad de Montevideo.

Dirige tarnbien la revista Anden y es un dirigente del movimiento llamado Transcreadonismo. Con su Mitologia de la sangre gano en 1939 el premlo nacional de poesia. Ibanez figura entre los mas distinguidos poetas y critlcos de la nueva generation uruguaya.

BE IBARBOUROU, JUANA [Uruguay] Melo, 1895- Antologia poetica (1940)

Juana de Ibarbourou 'Juana de America' usa de muchisimas formas, pero unicarnente de un tema: no tanto de una mujer ena- morada como de la rendicion de la mujer en el amor* Sus versos son de una popularidad enorme en toda la America Hispana. BIOGRAPHICAL AND BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTES

HUIDOBRO, VICENTE [Chile] Santiago, 1893- El espejo de agua (1916) Saisons choisies (1921) Manifestes (1925) Tout a coup (1925) Temblor de cido (1931) Altazor (1931) El ciudadano del olvido (1941) Ver y palpar (1941) Huidohro, who has spent much of his time in Paris and Madrid, introduced European experimentalism into Chilean literature. His work found small favour in his native country, and he gained a reputation as an enfant terrible and a violent polemist. 'Creation- ism', which he says was not a movement but a theory of aesthetics, was launched in a Buenos Aires lecture in 1916. This school em- phasized the fashioning of new kinds of imagery; and since Huido- bro felt that the image was independent of any single language, he wrote much of his work in French. His ideas had considerable in- fluence in Spain and Latin America.

IBANEZ, ROBERTO ("Uruguay] Montevideo, 1907- Olas (1925) La danza de los horizontes (1927) Mitologia de la sangre (1939) Ibanez gives courses in Literature at the University of Montevideo. He also edits the review Anden and is a leader in the movement which he has named Transcreationism. With Mitologia de la is one sangre he won, in 1939, the first national poetry prize. He of the most distinguished of the younger generation of Uruguayan poets and critics.

IBARBOUROU, JUANA DE [Uruguay] Melo, 1895- Antologia pottica (1940) Juana de Ibarbourou 'Juana de America* has a wide range of forms, but only one theme: not so much a woman in love as a woman's surrender to love. Her verse is enormously popular throughout Hispanic America.

613 NOTAS BIOGRAFICAS Y B I B LI OCR A F I C A S

LARS, CLAUDIA (Carmen Brannon Beers) [El Salvador] 1903- Estrettas en d pozo (1934) Cancion redonda (1937) Claudia Lars es de ascendencia irlandesa y salvadorena. Con su coleccion de poemas, Sonetos del arcangel, gano un premio en un certamen literario de la America Central organizado en 1941 en la ciudad de Guatemala.

LEZAMA LIMA, JOSE [Cuba] La Habana, 1912- La muerte de Narciso (1937) Enemigo rumor (1941) Jose Lezama Lima estudio leyes en la Universidad de la Habana, mas se ha dedicado a las letras. Fundo y edito las revistas Verbum, Espuela de Plata, y Nadie Pareda; actualmente es uno de los editores de Origenes. Ha cultivado el cuento fantastico y el ensayo, pero es esencialmente poeta.

LIMA, JORGE DE [Brasil] Uniao, 1893- Poemas (1928)

Bangue e negra ful6 ( 1928) Novospoemas (1929) Poemas escdhidos (1932) Tempo e eternidade [em colaboragao com M. Mendes] (1935) Quatro poemas negros (1937) Tunica inconsutil (1941) de e Jorge Lima, medico, iegislador professor, recebeu, em 1935, os premios literarios da Fundagao Graga Aranha e da Remsta Ameri- cana. Urn dos iniciadores da renascenfa contemporanea da poesia no Brasil, demonstra tendencias que tern afetado de varios modos o movimento. Jorge de Lima ousadamente combina a devogao com uma especie de Vaudeville' poetico, que faz lembrar a sua fase ex- perimentalista. O seu trabalho e rico em simpatia humana, e demon- stra um alcance e colorido interessantes.

LOPEZ, Luis CARLOS [Colombia] 1880- Poesias (1940) Lopez presto sus servicios de Consul de Colombia en Baltimore.

614 BIOGRAPHICAL AND BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTES

LARS, CLAUDIA (Carmen Brannon Beers) [El Salvador] 1903- Estrdlas en el pozo (1934) Cancion redonda (1937) Claudia Lars is of Irish and Salvadorean ancestry. With her group of poems Sonetos del arcdngel she won a prize in the Central American Literary Contest held in Guatemala City in 1941.

LEZAMA LIMA, JOSE [Cuba] Havana, 1912- La muerte de Narciso (1937) Enemigo rumor (1941) Jose Lezama Lima studied law at the University of Havana, but he has devoted himself to writing. He founded and edited the reviews Verbum, Espuela de Plata, and Nadie Parecia, and is at present one of the editors of Origenes. He has tried his hand at the fantastic tale and the essay, but he is essentially a poet.

LIMA, JORGE DE [Brazil] Uniao, 1893- Poemas (1928) Bangue e negra fulo (1928) Novos poemas (1929) Poemas escolhidos (1932) Tempo e eternidade [in collaboration with M.Mendes] (1935) Quatro poemas negros (1937) Tunica inconsutil (1941) Jorge de Lima, physician, legislator and teacher, in 1935 received the literary awards of the Graga Aranha Foundation and the Revista Amencana. One of the initiators of the contemporary renaissance of poetry in Brazil, he exhibits tendencies which have variously affected the movement. Lima boldly combines piety with a kind of poetic vaudeville reminiscent of his experimentalist phase. His work is rich in humanitarian sympathies, and he displays an interesting range and colour.

LOPEZ, Luis CARLOS [Colombia] 1880- Poesias (1940) Lopez has served as Colombian Consul in Baltimore. His work re-

615 NOTAS BIOGRAFICAS Y B I B LI OCR A F I C A S

Su obra se asemeja a la de Adan, del Peru, pues empka la forma que Mariategui ha llamado anti-soneto. Lopez es ironista en re- beldia contra el tradicional soneto simbolista de arruliador efecto: preservando tan solo un vestiglo de la original exactitud de forma, el echa mano de temas rudamente reales y los vierte en los moldes de su satira. Es un cronista inquisitorial de la esterilidad y el hastio de la vida pueblerina. Se destaca como uno de los dirigentes de la poesia contemporanea de Colombia.

LOPEZ MERINO, FRANCISCO [Argentina] La Plata, 1904-1928 Obra completa (1931) Los versos nostalgicos y delicados de Francisco Lopez Merino evocan a sus venerados maestros, Samain y Jammes. Su mucrte prcmatura corto una carrera que prometia mucho, pues faabia ya impreso su huella significativa en la poesia argentina.

MARECHAL, LEOPOLDO [Argentina] Buenos Aires, 1900- Los aguiluchos (1922) Diascomo ftechas (1926) Odas para el hombre y la mujer (1929) Cinco poemas australes (1937) Marechal ue, con Francisco Luis Bernardez, redactor de la revista Libra. Publico tambien, profusamente, en Proa y Martin Fierro, publicaciones ligadas al renacimiento contemporaneo de la poesia argentina. En 1930, sus Odas para el hombre y la mujer obtuvieron el primer premio de poesia de la ciudad de Buenos Aires. Su estilo tiene el dejo fuerte de la moderna escuela espanola.

MAYA, RAFAEL [Colombia] La vida en la sombra (1925) Coros del mediodta (1928) Poesia (1940) Maya estudio en la Universidad Nacional de Colombia y hoy en- sena en k Escuela Nacional de Bellas Artes. Su poesfa inicial fue de sensibilidad simbolista. se Despues fijo en Walt Whitman para su inspiracion e imito las extasiadoras estrofas libres del bardo norte- americano.

616 BIOGRAPHICAL AND BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTES sembles that of Adan of Peru in the sense that he uses the form which Mariategui called anti-sonnet. L6pez is an ironist in rebellion against the lulling murmur of the traditional symbolist sonnet: pre- serving only the vestigia of the original form's strictness, he works with brutally realistic material, shaping it to satirical purposes. He is an unsparing recorder of the sterility and boredom of provincial life. He is a leading figure in contemporary Colombian poetry.

LOPEZ MERINO, FRANCISCO [Argentina] La Plata, 1904-1928 Qbra completa (1931) The delicate and nostalgic verse of Francisco Lopez Merino re- minds one of his beloved masters, Samain and Jarnmes. His early death cut short a career which promised much, and which had al- ready left a significant mark upon Argentinian poetry.

MARECHAL, LEOPOLDO [Argentina] Buenos Aires, 1900- Losaguiluchos (1922) Diets como flechas (1926) Odas para el hombre y la rnujer (1929) Cinco poemas australes (1937) Marechal was co-editor, with Francisco Luis Bernardez, of the re- view Libra. He also contributed extensively to Proa and Martin Fierro, publications which are associated with the contemporary renaissance of Argentinian poetry. His Odas para el hombre y la mujer won the first prize for poetry from the city of Buenos Aires in 1930. His style is strongly suggestive of the modern Spanish school

MAYA, RAFAEL [Colombia] La vlda en la sombra (1925) Coros del mediodia (1928) Poesia (1940) Maya studied in the National University of Colombia, and now teaches in the National School of Fine Arts. His earlier poetry is he to symbolist in feeling, Later turned Walt Whitman for inspir- ation and imitated the free ecstatic strophes of the North American poet.

617 NOTAS BIOGRAFICAS Y B I B LI OG R A F I C A S

MENDES, MURILO [Brasil] Juiz de Fora, 1902- Poemas (1933) de Tempo e eternidade [em colaboracao com J. Lima] (1935) Murilo Mendes foi educado em Niteroi, no Colegio de Santa Rosa. As siias primeiras obras sao notaveis pelo seu deHcado senso hu- moristico. Em 1934 interessou-se no Neo-catolicismo e comecou a escrever sob a influencia de Jorge de Lima.

MENDEZ, FRANCISCO [Guatemala] 1908- Romances de la tierra verde (1938) Los dedos en el barro (s..) La poesia de Francisco Mendez es aceda, dura, anegada en la ro- jiza violencia de la guerra de guerrilla en Nicaragua. Tiene, sin embargo, una ternura asaz conmovedora. Su obra, en su peor parte, es apenas una 'sentimentalizacion' de la jerga popular; en su parte mas lograda, tiene algo del tono que Horace Gregory y Kenneth Fearing logran en sus poemas del vernaculo.

MENDEZ DORICH, RAFAEL [Peru"]

Dibujos animados (1936) Mendoza (Argentina), 1903- Mendez Dorich nacio en Argentina, pero se crio en Arequipa, al sud del Peru. Por haberse educado en un medio religioso, trato primero de abrazar la iglesia, pero se desligo mas tarde de este proposito y ue a trabajar en un ingenio azucarero. Tambien se ensayo en el ejercito; no gustandole la disciplina, se dedico a viajar durante cinco anos por Chile, la Argentina y el Uruguay, Tras esto se aventuro en las selvas amazonicas. Hacia 1930 se junto con un grupo de escritores y artistas revolucionarios. Como resultado de sus actividades politicas, el y veintitres de sus cama- radas fueron encarcelados en la isla Fronton. Procedieron a decla- rarse en huelga de hambre y fueron puestos en libertad. Mendez rompio a continuacion con su grupo sobre cuestiones relacionadas con el asesinato de Leon Trotzky en Mexico. Desde entonces tra- baja para una compama naviera mientras revisa sus poemas. Sus versos no reflejan sus actividades politicas y se inclinan a la escuela impresionista.

618 BIOGRAPHICAL AND BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTES

MURILO MENDES, [Brazil] Juiz de Fora, 1902- Poemas (1933) e eternidade collaboration Tempo [in with J. de Lima] (1935) Mendes was educated in Nitheroy, at the College of Santa Rosa. His earlier work is remarkable for a delicate sense of humour. In 1934 he became interested in Neo-Catholicism and began to write under the influence of Jorge de Lima.

FRANCISCO MENDEZ, [Guatemala] 1908- Romances de la tierra verde (1938) Los dedos en el barro (n.d.) The poetry of Francisco Mendez is tough, hard, steeped in the violent colour of guerrilla warfare in Nicaragua. It has a tender- ness, nevertheless, that is most appealing. At its worst, it is merely a sentimentalization of jargon; at its best, it achieves something of the tone of the vernacular poems of Horace Gregory or Kenneth Fearing.

MENDEZ DORICH, RAFAEL [Peru] Dibujos animados (1936) Mendoza (Argentina), 1903- Mendez Dorich was born in Argentina, but was brought up in Arequipa, in the south of Peru. Educated in a religious environ- ment, he at first intended to enter the Church; but he later broke with his religious connections and went to work on a sugar-ranch. He also tried the army, but disliking the discipline, spent the next few years traveling in Chile, Argentina, and Uruguay. He then In the made a trip into the Amazonian jungle. early 1930'$ he joined a group of revolutionary writers and artists, and as a result of his with of his political activities was imprisoned twenty-three com- rades on Fronton Island. A hunger-strike followed, and the prison- ers were released; but Mendez broke with his group over the ques- tion of the assassination of Leon Trotzky in Mexico, and since then has been working for a steamship company and revising his poems. His verse does not reflect his political activity, tending rather to the impressionist school.

619 NOTAS BIOGRAFICAS Y B I B L I O GR A F I C A S

MISTRAL, GABRIELA (Lucila Godoy Alcayaga) [Chile] Desolation (1922) Vicuna, 1889- Tcrnura (1925) Tola (1938) Los Sonetos de la muerte de Gabriela Mistral, pubUcados en 1914, forjaron su nombradia, que desde entonces ha seguido en aumento. Ha ocupado puestos en el Ministerio de Education de Chile y fue Consulesa en Espana; en 1922 se la invito a Mexico y fue hues- ped de esta nation. En 1931 enseno en los colegios Barnard y Middlebury. En 1932 fue profesora visitante de estudios hispanicos en la Universidad de Puerto Rico, isla sobre la que desde ese dia ha escrito mucho tanto en prosa como en verso. A la fecha desempena ei cargo de Consulesa en Los Angeles. Su poesia inicial fue de inspiration catolica y algo simbolista de sensibilidad. Escribe con fluidez asi en la forma libre como en la traditional, y grande es sii prestigio en Sudamerica. En 1945 se gano el Premio Nobel de Literatura.

MORENO MANUEL JIMENO, [Peru] _ Lima, 1913- Asi bajaron los perros (1937) Los malditos (1935) Moreno Jimeno sufrio la prision por sos convicciones politicas, y de esta experiencia y de su idealismo social fluye una poesia de dolor y rabia. Casi ^elegrafica' ella en su ajustada compresion, constituye una protesta verdaderamente revolutionaria contra la opresion.

MORO, CESAR (Cesar Quispez Asin) [Peru] Lima, 1906- La tortuga ecuestrc (1942) Lc chateau de grisou (1943) Lettre d'amour (1944) surrealistas Moro es uno de los peruanos rnas activos. Paso algiin tiempo en Paris y colaboro en la revista Le Surrealisme au service de la Revolution, publicada por Aragon, Breton y Eluard. Moro es tan como en la pintor poeta; 1935 participo en primera exposi- tion de pintura surrealista, organizada por el mismo en Lima. En Mexico, fue uno de los organizadores de la exposition internacional 620 BIOGRAPHICAL AND BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTE'S

MISTRAL, GABRIELA (Lucila Godoy Alcayaga) [Chile] Desolacion (1922) Vicuna, 1889- Ternura (1925) Tola (1938) Mistral's Gabriela Sonetos de la muerte, published in 1914, created her reputation, which has continued to grow ever since. She has held positions in the Department of Education of Chile, has been Chilean consul in Spain, and was invited to come to Mexico in 1922 as Guest of the Nation. In 1931 she taught at Barnard and Middle- bury Colleges. In 1932 she was Visiting Professor of Spanish Studies at the University of Puerto Rico, and she has since written ex- tensively about the Island, both in prose and in verse. At present she is in the Chilean consular service in Los Angeles. Her earlier poetry was Catholic in inspiration and somewhat symbolist in feeling. She writes fluently both in the free and in the traditional forms, and her prestige throughout South America is great. In 1945 she won the Nobel Prize for Literature,

MORENO JIMENO, MANUEL [Peru] Lima, 1913- Asi bajaron las perros (1937) Los malditos (1935)

Moreno Jimeno suffered imprisonment for his political convictions, and out of this experience and his social idealism has come a poetry of anger and pain. Almost telegraphic in its compressed statement, it is a truly revolutionary protest against oppression.

MORO, CESAR (Cesar Quispez Asin) [Peru] Lima, 1906- La tortuga ecuestre (1942) Le chateau de grisou (1943) Lettre d'amour (1944) Moro is one of the most active of the Peruvian surrealists. He lived for some time in Paris and contributed to the review Le Surrealisms au service de la Revolution, which was edited by Aragon, Breton and Eluard. Moro is a painter as well as a poet, and in 1935 he or- ganized and participated in the first exhibition of surrealist paint- ing in Lima. In Mexico, he was one of the organizers of the inter-

621 KOTAS BIOGRAFICAS Y B I B LI O GR A F I C A S

milito surrealista de 1940. Junto con Moreno Jimeno y Westphalen, tambien como por la causa de la Espaiia republicana, y, aquellos, fue perseguido por el gobierno de Benavides.

MUNOZ MARIN, Luis [Puerto Rico] San Juan, 1898- Borrones (1917) Madrc haraposa (1917) c Luis Munoz Mann es hijo de Luis Mufioz Rivera, el George Washington de Puerto Rico'. Empezo su carrera literaria a la edad de veinte, cuando fundo y dirigio La Revitfa de Indias, bilingiie publicacion literaria impresa en Nueva York. En 1920 opto por dedicar su vida a la mejora de la suerte que les ha caido en lote a las masas destitutas, sufridas, inteligentes de Puerto Rico. Desde entonces su historia ha sido la de la isla misma. Hoy es el dirigente del partido Popular Democratico y presidente del Senado de Puerto Rico. Ha diseminado mucho sus escritos en espafiol e ingles.

NALE ROXLO, CONRADO [Argentina] Buenos Aires, 1898-

El grillo (1923)

El grillo, en 1923, obtuvo un premio de la editorial Babel. Nale Roxlo ha ganado tambien un premio de la ciudad de Buenos Aires.

NERUDA, PABLO (Neftali Ricardo Reyes) [Chile] Parral, 1904- Crefusculario (1923) Veinte poemas de amor y una cancion desesperada (1924) Residenda en la tierra I (1931) El hondero entusiasta (1933) Residenda en la tierra II (1935) Espana en el corazon (1937) Neruda es de los nombres que mas suenan en la poesfa contem- de America Latina. El ha poranea k via] ado mucho por Europa y el Oriente, sirviendo activamente en los consulados de Madrid,

Mexico. 5 Calcuta, Rangtin, y Paso a juventud en Temuco, pobla- 622 BIOGRAPHICAL AND BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTES

national surrealist exhibition of 1940. He was active in the cause of Republican Spain, together with Moreno Jimeno and Westphalen; and, like them, he was persecuted by the Benavides government.

MUNOZ MARIN, Luis [Puerto Rico ] San Juan, 1898- Borrones (1917) Madre haraposa (1917) Luis Munoz Mann is the son of Luis Munoz Rivera, *the George Washington of Puerto Rico'. At the age of twenty he began his literary career, founding and editing La Revista dc Indias, a bi- lingual literary review published in New York. In 1920 he decided to devote his life to bettering the lot of the patient, intelligent, poverty-stricken Puerto Rican masses, and since then his story has been that of the Island itself. At present he is the leader of the Popular Democratic Party and President of the Senate of Puerto Rico. He has published widely, both in Spanish and in English.

NALE ROXLO, CONRADO [Argentina] Buenos Aires, 1898-

El grillo (1923) El grillo won a prize from the publishing house Babel in 1923, and

Nale Roxlo has also won an award from the city of Buenos Aires.

NERUDA, PABLO (Neftali Ricardo Reyes) [Chile] Parral, 1904- Crepusculario (1923) Veinte poemas dc amor y una cancion desesperada (1924) Residencia en la tierra 7 (1931) El hondero entusiasta (1933) Residencia en la tierra II (1935) Espana en el corazon (1937) Neruda's is one of the best known names in contemporary Latin American poetry. He has traveled extensively in Europe and the Orient, having been active in the consular service in Madrid, Cal- cutta, Rangoon, and Mexico. His youth was spent in Temuco, a

623 1STOTAS BIOGRAFICAS Y B I B L I O G R A F I C A S don costanera, lo que tal vez explica su continua alusion al mar en su poesia. La evolucion de Ncruda ha sido gradual. Con Crepwcu- lario, obra en que los elementos simbollstas se funden con imagenes extraordinariamente originates, sento plaza en la Kteratura chilena. El hondero entusiasta, escrito poco despues pero publicado afios mas tarde, revela la influencia del estilo extasiador de Sabat Ercasty, del Uruguay. Los dos tomos de Residencia en la tierra reunen la poesia que le ha dado fama. La estructura eminentemente per- sonal de su obra se debe a que trenza su material realista y el en- jambre de sus simbolos. Como T. S. Eliot, Neruda es el poeta de un sistema social en decadencia: mira a la vida como una ro- mantica y grotesca pesadilla. Tetrica como un osario lo que es cualldad esencialmente espanola fluye la tristeza por sus poemas. Tecnicamente, su obra reciente demuestra que ha roto con el sira- bolisrnOj o, como es el caso a menudo, que ha reaccionado contra esta tendencla; mas no incurre en los moldes del surrealismo con- ventional.

NOVO, SALVADOR [Mexico] . Mexico, 1904- Poemas (1925) Espejo (1933) Nuevo amor (1938) Salvador Novo, uno de los miembros sobresalientes del grupo Ulises, se educo en la Escuek Nacional de Jurisprudencia, y se dedica actualmente al periodismo yala publicidad. Fue delegado la de Mexico en Segunda Conferencia Panamericana de 1927, y en un tlempo u otro ha encabezado distintas reparticiones guber- namentales, Incluso el Ministerio de relaciones Exteriores.

OCAMPO, SILVINA [Argentina] Enumeracion de la patria (1942) Silvlna Ocampo, hermana de la notable redactora de la revista Sur de Buenos Aires, ha sido celebrada por todo el continente a causa de su libro Enumeracion de la fatria. Figura entre las voces mas conmovedoras de la poesia americana contemporanea.

624 BIOGRAPHICAL AND BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTES' seaside town, and this perhaps accounts for the continual recurrence of the sea motif in his poetry. Neruda's development has been gradual He made his mark in Chilean literature with Crepuscu- lario, in which symbolist elements are blended with highly original images. El hondero entusiasta, which was written soon after but published several years later, shows the influence of the ecstatic style of Sabat Ercasty of Uruguay. The two volumes of Rcsidcnda en la tierra contain the poetry that has made him famous. The highly individual texture of his work is due to the interweaving of realistic material and a personal set of symbols. Neruda is as much the poet of a decaying social system as is T. S. Eliot: he sees life as a roman- tic and grotesque nightmare. The charnel grimness which runs through his poems is an essentially Spanish quality. Technically, his later work represents a break with symbolism, often a reaction against it; but it does not fall into the conventional surrealist pattern.

NOVO, SALVADOR [Mexico] Mexico, 1904- Poemas (1925) Espejo (1933) Nuevo amor (1938) Salvador Novo, one of the outstanding members of the Ulises group, was educated in the National School of Jurisprudence, and is now actively engaged in journalism and publicity work. He was the Mexican delegate to the Second Pan American Conference in 1927, and has at one time or another been the head of various governmental departments, including the Secretariat of Foreign Affairs.

OCAMPO, SILVINA [Argentina] Enumeration de la fatria (1942) Silvina Ocampo the sister of Victoria Ocampo, the well-known editor of the Buenos Aires review Sur has won acclaim through- out Latin America for her book Enumeracion de la fatria. Hers is one of the most moving voices in contemporary American poetry.

625 NOTAS BIOGRAFICAS Y B I BL I OG R A F I C A S

OLIVARES FIGUERQA, R. [Venezuela] Caracas, 1893- Suenos de arena (1937) Teoria de la niebla (1938) Suma poetica (1942) Olivares Figueroa se educo en Espana y no entro a tomar parte en la rida literaria venezolana hasta 1937. Es autor de un libro sobre el verso moderno en su pais. Su misma obra representa un esfuerzo de resucitar los viejos romances y la poesia popular espanoles. Cul- tiva el cualidades sencillas e ingenuas.

OQUENDO DE AMAT, CARLOS [Peru] Puno, 1909-1936 5 metros de poemas (1929) Oquendo de Amat fue uno de los mas jovenes surrealistas perua- nos. Su obra llamo primeramente la atencion en Amauta, la re- vista de Mariategui, que desde 1926 a 1930 fue meollo cultural y caldero politico en Lima. For razones politicas fue desterrado en 1931, y tras haber peregrinado por la America Central, se traslado a Espana, donde contra] o tuberculosis y murio en los primeros dias de la guerra civil. Aunque murio joven, dejando solo un libro, era ya un poeta que prometia mucho. Escribio en cierto modo al estilo de Eluard, pero la naturaleza de sus imagenes crea una tonalidad sui generis, dc delicada alegria.

ORIBE, EMJLIO [Uruguay] Melo, 1893- El nunca usado mar (1922) La transfiguration ddcorporeo (1930) El canto del cuadrante (1938) La lampara que anda (1944) Poesia (antologia) (1944) Estudio en Montevideo; viajo por Europa, Estados Unidos, y America Latina. Ha sidd Profesor de Filoscffa de la Universidad de Montevideo y Profesor de Estetica de la Facultad de Humani- dades. Actualmente Integra el Consejo de Ensenanza Primaria y Normal del Uruguay, Ha dictado numerosos cursos y conferencias sobre temas de filosofia, arte y educacion, y ha hecho lectura de sus

626 BIOGRAPHICAL AND BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTES

OLIVARES FIGUEROA, R. [Venezuela] Caracas, 1893- Suenos de arena (1937) Teoria de la niebla (1938) Suma poetica (1942) Olivares Figueroa was educated in Spain and did not become a part of Venezuelan literary life until 1937. He is the author o a book on modern Venezuelan verse. His own work represents an at- tempt to revive the old romances and popular Spanish poetry. He cultivates naive and childlike qualities.

OQUENDO DE AMAT, CARLOS [Peru] Puno, 1909-1936 5 metros de poemas (1929) Oquendo de Amat was one of the younger Peruvian surrealists. His work first attracted attention in the pages of Amauta, Mariate- in gui's review, which was a centre of cultural and political ferment exiled for reasons Lima from 1926 to 1930. In 1931 he was political and, after wandering in Central America, he went to Spain. There he contracted tuberculosis, and died during the first days of the Civil War. Although he died young, leaving but one book, he was already a poet of great promise. He wrote rather in the style of Eluard, but the character of his imagery creates an individual tone of gentle gaiety.

ORIBE, EMILIO [Uruguay] Melo, 1893- El nunca usado mar (1922) La transfiguration delcorporeo (1930) El canto del cuadrante (1938) La lampara que anda (1944) Poesia (collected) (1944) Emilio Oribe was educated in Montevideo and has travelled in has been Pro- Europe, the United States, and Latin America. He fessor of Philosophy in the University of Montevideo and Professor of Esthetics in die Faculty of Humane Studies. He is now con- nected with the National Council of Primary and Normal Instruc- tion in Uruguay. He has given numerous courses and lectures on

627 NOTAS BIOGRAFICAS Y B I B L I OCR A F I C A S poemas en la Union Panamerlcana de Washington, en Buenos Aires, La Plata, y Santiago de Chile. Poeta, medico y profesor, Emilio Orlbe publico su primer libro, El nardo del angora, en 1915. Ha escrlto extensamente, tanto en prosa como en poesia.

ORTIZ DE MONTELLANO, BERNARDO [Mexico] Avidez (1921) El trompo de siete colores (1925) Red (1928) Suenos (1933) Muerte de cielo azul (1937) Cinco horassin corazon (1940) En 1935 Ortiz de Montellano publico un estudio sobre la antigua poesia indigena de Mexico, con un analisis de imagenes, mas unas versiones revisadas de ciertas traducciones espaiiolas. Le interesaba establecer un nexo entre el fetichismo primitivo y el surrealismo contemporaneo. Su propia poesia es similar a la de la escuela norte- americana moderns, pues, buscando valores espirituales, explora en las sensaciones. En suma, sus buceos de la mente y del con- tenido del estado consciente producen un efecto tan analogo al que se recibe de T. S. Eliot corno para hacerlo un traductor ideal de este poeta. Asi, no sorprende que en 1938 haya hecho la traduc- cion espaiiola de Ash Wednesday. Temperamento escolastico es el suyo, introspectivo y preciso; agudo y original se muestra en sus imagenes.

OTERO REICHE, RAUL [Bolivia] Santa Cruz de la Sierra, 1906- Alba (1925) Otero Reiche ha dirigido los diaries La Palabra, El National, La Union y El Qriente. Fue laureado en el certamen nacional de poesia de 1939. Esta influenciado por el culto del indio, que ha creado una escuela poetica que florece en varias republicas ameri- canas. Representa esta escuela un intento de cobrar autenticidad autoctona a favor del uso de las tradiciones y la historia de las masas la Otero Reiche de poblacion. auna este interes con un epico en- tusiasmo por toda la vastedad del Continente. Su obra es de oriea- 628 BIOGRAPHICAL AND BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTES

philosophical, artistic, and educational subjects; and he has given readings of his poetry in the Pan American Union, in Buenos Aires, La Plata, and Santiago de Chile. Emilio Oribe poet, physician, and educator published his first book, El nardo del dnjora, in 1915. He has written extensively, both in prose and in verse.

ORTIZ DE MONTELLANO, BERNARDO [Mexico] Avidcz (1921) Mexico, 1899- El trompo de siete colores (1925) Red (1928) Suenos (1933) Muerto de cido azul (1937) Cinco h oras sin coraz6n (1940) In 1935 Ortiz de Montellano published a study of the ancient In- dian poetry of Mexico with an analysis of its imagery and with re- vised versions of some of the Spanish translations. He was in- terested in tracing relationships between primitive fetichism and contemporary surrealism. His own poetry is similar to the modern American school in that it explores sensation in a search for spiri- tual values. In fact, his probing of the mind and the content of consciousness produces a tone sufficiently like T. S. Eliot's to make him an ideal translator of this poet, and it is not surprising that he made a Spanish version of Ash Wednesday in 1938. His is a schol- and and his is arly temperament, introspective precise, imagery sharp and original.

OTERO REICHE, RAUL [Bolivia] Santa Cruz de la Sierra, 1906- Alba (1925) Otero Reiche has edited the newspapers La Palabra, El National, laurel the national La Union and El Orient? . In 1939 he won the in

is influenced the cult of the a school poetry contest. He by Indian, several Latin American of poetry which flourishes in republics, native the representing an attempt to gain authenticity by using traditions and history of the masses of the population, Otero Reiche combines this interest with an epic enthusiasm for the sweep of the Continent. His work is similar in trend to that of Peralta, of

629 NOTAS BIOGRAFICAS Y B I B LI O GR A F I C A S tacion similar a la de Peralta, del Peru; revelase, en la forma, ad- mirador de Walt Whitman.

OTERO SILVA, MIGUEL [Venezuela] Valencia, 1908- Agua y cauce (1937) 25 poemas (1942) Otero Silva fue desterrado de Venezuela bajo el regimen de Gomez es su y vivio en Espana, Cuba y Mexico. De protesta social poesia, a menudo expresada en termkios de amorios. Contrariamente a la mayoria de los escritores proletaries, el es abiertamente roman- tico.

PALES MATOS, Luis [Puerto Rico] Guayama, 1898- Azaleas (1915) Tuntun de pasa y griferia (1937) Luis Pales Matos es uno de los representantes destacados de la escuela afroantillana. Emplea el folklore negro con regocijo e ironia, y, como Nicolas Guillen, es un satirista mordaz. Pocos escritores de su escuela se pueden comparar con el en su modo grutesco de ensamblar las faces de sensualidad y espiritualidad que el crea ensamblaje que jamas decae en lo puramente burlesco, y que, gracias a su exquisitez en la palabra y su imageneria cabal y deliciosa, se salva siempre de la vulgaridad. Publica al acaso, de modo infrecuente, y esto solo ante la insistencia de sus amigos; mas, cuan raudamente circularan sas manuscritos cuando Tuntdn de pasa y griferia fue comentado por la critica en Espana y los Esta- dos Unidos cinco anos antes de que hubiese salido en libro. Su obra, en conjunto, constituye una contribucion nueva a la poesfa mo- derna.

PARDO GARCIA, GERMAN [Colombia] Ibague, 1902- Voluntad (1930) Los jubilos ilesos (1933) Loscdnticos (1935) Poderios (1937) Antologia poetica (1944) IMS voces naturales (1945) Garcia vivido en la Pardo ha America Central y Mexico, y fue 630 BIOGRAPHICAL AND BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTES

Peru; in form it suggests that he is an admirer of Walt Whitman.

OTERO SILVA, MIGUEL [Venezuela] Valencia, 1908- Agua y cauce (1937) 25 poemas (1942) Otero Silva was exiled from Venezuela during the Gomez regime and lived in Spain, Cuba and Mexico. His is a poetry of social pro- test, frequently expressed in terms of amorous relationships. Unlike most proletarian writers, he is frankly a romantic.

PALES MATOS, Luis [Puerto Rico] Guayama, 1898- Azaleas (1915) Tuntun de pasa y griferia (1937) Luis Pales Matos is one of the outstanding representatives of the Afro-Antillean school. His use of Negro folklore is gay and ironic, and, like Nicolas Guillen, he is a pungent satirist. Few writers of his school can compare with him in the grotesque blend of sensual and spiritual values which he creates a blend which never lapses into pure burlesque, and which is always saved from vulgarity by his exquisite word sense and delightfully apt imagery. He pub- lishes casually and infrequently, only at the insistence of his friends; but how widely his verse circulates in manuscript is sug- gested by the fact that T-tfntun de pasa y griferia was reviewed in Spain and the United States five years before it was brought out in book form. His work is a fresh contribution to modern poetry as a whole.

PARDO GARCIA, GERMAN [Colombia] Ibague, 1902- Voluntad (1930) Los jtibilos ilesos (1933) Loscdnticos (1935) Poderios (1937) Antologiapoetica (1944) Las voces naturales (1945) Pardo Garcia has lived in Central America and Mexico, and has

631 NOTAS BIOGRAFICAS Y BI BLIOGR A FI C A $ empleado de la Legacion de Colombia en San Jose de Costa Rica.

PAZ, OCTAYIO [Mexico] . Mexico, 1914- Raiz delhombre (1936) la la Entrc piedra y flor ( 1941 ) A la orilla del mundo (1942) Octavio Paz, uno de los fundadores de la conotida revista literaria Taller, es miembro de la junta que dirige la no menos influyente revista, El hijo prodigo. En 1943 se gano una de las becas Guggen- heim reservadas para la America Latina. Actualmente tiene un cargo diplomatic en Paris.

PEDROSO, REGINO [Cuba] Union de Reyes, 1896- Nosotros (1933) Antologia poetica: 1918-1938 (1939) Mds alia canta cl mar (1939) Pedroso, que de ascendencia es chino-africano, ha sido obrero en las industrias del azucarv de los ferrocarriles y el acero. Es de los poetas proletarios mas poderosos de la America Latina.

PELLICER, CARLOS [Mexico] Villa Heraiosa, 1899- Colorcsen cl mar y otrospocmas (1921) Piedra de sacrificios (1924) Seis,$iete foe-mas (1924) Hora y 20 (1927) Camino (1929) Cincopoemas (1931)

Hora de Junio ( 1937) Rednto (1941) Pellicer, miembro- del gropo Ulises, ordena sus imagenes al modo de una metodica pintura mural. Su obra es de tono clasico; se in- cBna a batir en frio su material, y a trabajarlo hasta conseguir un dibujo complicado.

632 BIOGRAPHICAL AND BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTES been employed by the Colombian Legation in San Jose de Costa Rica.

PAZ, OCTAVIO [Mexico] Mexico, 1914- Raiz del hombre (1936) Entre la piedra y la flor (1941) A la orilla del mundo (1942) Octavio Paz was one of the founders of the important literary- review Taller and is a member of the group which edits the no less the important El hijo prodigo. In 1943 he was awarded one of Guggenheim Latin-American fellowships. At present he is in the diplomatic service of his country in Paris.

PEDROSO, REGINO [Cuba] Union de Reyes, 1896- Nosotros (1933) Antologia poetical 1918-1938 (1939) Mas alia canta el mar (1939) Pedroso, who is of Chinese and Negro ancestry, has been a worker in the sugar, railroad and steel industries. He is one of the most powerful of the proletarian poets of Latin America.

PELLICER, CARLOS [Mexico] Villa Hermosa, 1899- Colores en el mar y otros poemas (1921) Piedra de sacrifices (1924) Sets, siete poemas (1924) Horn y 20 (1927) Camino (1929) Cinco poemas (1931) Hora de Junto (1937) Recinto (1941) Pellicer, a member of the Ulises group, arranges his images in a kind of formal mural His work is classical in tone: his tendency is to treat his material coldly, working it into a complicated design.

633 NOTAS BIQGRAFICAS Y BIBLIQGRAFICAS

PENA BARRENECHEA, ENRIQUE [Peru] Lima, 1904- El aroma en la sombra (1926) Cinema de los sentidos furos (1931) Elegia a Becquer y retorno a la sombra (1936) Enrique Pena Barrenechea presto sus servicios de diplornatico en Mexico y el Brasil. Es simbolista, y aunque su ambito es limi- tado* logra lirlcas de gran pureza y finura, perpetuando asi la tradlcion de Eguren.

PERALTA, ALEJANDRO [Peru] Puno, 1899- Ande (1926) El Kollao (1934) Peralta es exponente que sobresale en el arte native, que en el Peru se llama Indigenismo* Es un poeta acentuadamente regional que combina el escenario andino con la imageneria extatica analoga a la del primitivo expresionismo aleman. Asevera que su obra esta influenciada por el lenguaje popular y la raza india, a la cual per- tenece. En el hecho eleva el la poesia de sabor local a un piano de intensidad superior al conseguido por la mayoria de los escritores que pertenecen a este circulo.

PEREDA VALDES, ILDEFONSO [Uruguay] Tacuarembo, 1899- La guitarra de los negros (1926) La casa iluminada (1927) Raza negra (1929) Pereda Valdes se sumo al movimiento ultraista espanoL Fundo la revista Los Nuevos> que marco el comienzc del experimentalismo en el Uruguay. Desde 1927 es profesor de literatura en la Universi- dad de Montevideo. Gran parte de su obra trata de la vida y el folklore del negro, y es precursor de los poetas mas jovenes a quienes preocupa el mismo tema. Tambien ha escrito poesias que tratan del gaucho e indio uruguayos. Sus tres compilaciones de critica: Lmea de color, El negro rioplatense j Antologla de la poesia negra americana, son de inmenso valor para los estudiantes del pensamiento y de la poesia de los negros.

634 BIOGRAPHICAL AND BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTES

PENA BARRENECHEA, ENRIQUE [Peru] Lima, 1904- El aroma en la sombra (1926) Cinema de los sentidos puros (1931) Elegia a Becquer y retorno a la sombra (1936) Enrique Pena Barrenechea served as a diplomat in Mexico and Brazil. He is a symbolist, and though his range is limited, he achieves lyrics of great delicacy and purity, carrying on the tradi- tion of Eguren.

PERALTA, ALEJANDRO [Peru] Puno, 1899- Ande (1926) El Kollao (1934) Peralta is an outstanding exponent of native art, which in Peru is called Indigenismo. He is a strongly regional poet who combines the Andean scene with an ecstatic imagery similar to that of early German expressionism. He maintains that his work is influenced by the popular speech and by the Indian race, to which he belongs. Actually he raises the poetry of local colour to a higher peak of intensity than do most writers who work in this medium.

PEREDA VALDES, ILDEFONSO [Uruguay] Tacuarembo, 1899- La guitarra de los negros (1926) La casa iluminada (1927) Raza negra (1929) Pereda Valdes was associated with the Spanish Ultraist movement. He founded the review Los Nuevos, which marked the beginning of experimentalism in Uruguay. Since 1927 he has been Profes- sor of Literature in the University of Montevideo. Much of his work deals with the life and folklore of the Negro, and he is a precursor of the younger poets preoccupied with those themes. He has also written poetry dealing with the Uruguayan gauchos and Indians. His three critical compilations Unea de color, El negro la of rioplatense and Antologia de poesia negra americana are immense value to the student of Negro thought and poetry.

635 NOTAS BIOGRAFICAS Y BI BLI OCR A.FI C A S

QUEREMEL, ANGEL MIGUEL [Venezuela] El barro florido (1923) El trapecio de las imdgenes (1926) Tabla (1928) Trayectoria (1928) Santo y sena (1938) Queremel paso muchos anos como funcionario consular en Es- pana, donde se asocio con el grupo que rodeaba a Lorca y Albert!. De ahi que su poesia hublese crecldo al calor de la escuela moderna espanola. Como sus maestros, se aplico a las formas del romance. De regreso en Venezuela, se sumo a la agrupacion Viernes, fun- dada en 1936 por algunos de los mas jovenes intelectuales venezo- lanos. Quizes se deba a la influencia de Queremel el que en la obra de varies de estos jovenes poetas se encuentren dejos de mis- ticismo espanol mezclado con ciertos hurtos de la tecnica acumula- tiva del surrealismo. Queremel es considerado como uno de los inlcladores del renacimiento moderno en la poesia venezolana.

REYES, ALFONSO [Mexico] Monterrey, 1889- Hucllas (1923) Ifigcnia cruel (1924) Pausa (1926) 5 cast sonctos (1931) Romances del Rio dcEnero (1933) Golfo de Mexico (1934) Yerbasdel Tarahumara (1934) Otra t/oz (1936) Villa de Union (1940) Alfonso Reyes, que ha servido a su pais como Embajador en el Brasil y la Argentina, es considerado en todos los rincones de la America Hispana como uno de los literates mas eminentes dc lengua espanola en este hemisferio. Es un profundo erudite, criticc avezado, y poeta de preclara estirpe.

- ROKHA, PABLO BE (Carlos Diaz Loyola) [Chile] Los gemldos (1922) Licanten, 1894 Suramertca (1927)

636 BIOGRAPHICAL AND BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTES

QUEREMEL, ANGEL MIGUEL [Venezuela]

El barro ftorido (1923) Coro, iSgp-Caracas, 1939 El trapecio de las imdgenes (1926) Tabla (1928) Trayectoria (1928) Santo y sena (1938) As a consular official Queremel spent many years in Spain* where he was associated with the group surrounding Lorca and AlbertL His poetry was therefore developed in the modern Spanish school, and, like his masters, he worked in the ballad forms. When he re- turned to Venezuela he joined the Viernes group, founded in 1936 by a number of the younger Venezuelan intellectuals. It is perhaps because of the influence of Queremel that an element of Spanish mysticism is found in the work of several of these young poets, mixed with certain borrowings from the associative technic of sur- realism. Queremel is considered one of the initiators of the modern rebirth of Venezuelan poetry.

REYES, ALFONSO [Mexico] Monterrey, 1889- Hucttas (1923) Ifigenia cruel (1924) Pausa (1926) 5 casisonetos (1931) Romances del Rio de Enero (1933) Golfo de Mexico (1934) Yerbas del Tarahumara (1934) Otra voz (1936) Villa de "Union (1940) Alfonso Reyes, who has served his country as Ambassador to Brazil and Argentina, is considered throughout Hispanic America one of letters in of the most eminent men writing Spanish in this . hemisphere. He is a profound scholar, an acute critic, and a poet of the greatest distinction.

ROKHA, PABLO DE (Carlos Diaz Loyola) [Chile]

Los gemidos (1922) Licanten, 1894- SuramSrica (1927)

637 NOTAS BIOGRAFICAS Y BI BLI OGR AFI C AS

Jcsucristo (1930) Gran temperatura (1937) Pablo de Rokha, descendiente de una famiHa burguesa de provin- cia, ha conocido la vida del comerciante activo, vendiendo muebles, objetos de arte y maquinaria agricola. Ha editado tales revistas Hterarias como Dinamo, y ahora dirige Multitud* De 1932 a 1933 dicto clases de Hteratura en la Universidad de Chile, y en 1933 fue candidate a diputado por Santiago de Chile. Influenciado sin duda por Lautreamont, fue violento y acedo en su obra inicial. Su poesia reciente esta fuertemente influenciada por Marx y Freud. Debe algo al surrealismo en el uso que hace de las imagenes y los sim- bolos, pero el es esencialmente un poeta heroico interesado en pre- gonar los conflictos que esta epoca suscita tanto entre el individuo y k sociedad como dentro de la sociedad misma.

ROKHA, WINETT DE (Luisa Anabalon Sanderson) [Chile] Formas del sueno (1916) Santiago, 1894- Cantoral (1936) Winett de Rokha se caso con Pablo de Rokha en 1916. Es ahora socia de el en la revista Multitud* Su obra se inspira en cierto modo

en la de el, pero asi y todo dene cualidad propia. Sus escritos, en conjunto, denotan un esfuerzo de penetrar en las emociones per- sonales para traducirlas a los terminos corrientes de la colectividad. Hay gran fuerza y ternura en su poesia.

ROUMAIN, JACQUES [Haiti] Port au Prince, 1906- Roumain est une figure dominante dans la jeune generation des poetes haitiens. En plus de ses vers, qui ont paru dans de nombreux journaux et revues, il a public un livre de critiques litteraires et un livre d'essais politiques.

EMILE ROUMER, [Haiti] Jeremie, 1903- Pomes d'Haiti et de France

Roumer etudia a Port au Prince et plus tard il habita Paris et Man-

chester il ou lut la litterature franfaise et anglaise. II continue la maniere de Duracine Vaval et emploie particulierement la couleur locale. Sa est poesie remarquable pour sa sensualite tropicale.

658 BIOGKAPHICAL AND BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTES

Jesucristo (1930) Gran temperatura (1937) Pablo de Rokha, descended from a provincial bourgeois family, has led active an commercial life, selling furniture, art objects and agri- cultural machinery, and has edited such literary reviews as Dinamo. He is currently editing Multitud. In 1932-33 he gave a course in Literature at the University of Chile, and in 1933 was a candidate for the Chamber of Deputies at Santiago de Chile. His early work was violent and bitter, evidently influenced by Lautreamont. His later poetry is powerfully influenced by Marx and Freud. His use of images and symbols owes something to surrealism, but he is essentially an heroic poet interested in expressing the contemporary conflicts between the individual and society and within society itself.

ROKHA, WINETT DE (Luisa Anabalon Sanderson) [Chile] Formas del sueno (1916) Santiago, 1894- Cantoral (1936) Winett de Rokha became the wife of Pablo de Rokha in 1916. She is now associated with him in editing the review Multitud. Her work is somewhat influenced by his, but nevertheless it has its indi- vidual quality. Her writing as a whole represents an effort to transcend personal emotion and to translate it into more general social terms. Her poetry has force as well as tenderness.

ROUMAIN, JACQUES [Haiti] Port au Prince, 1906- Roumain is a leading figure in the younger generation of Haitian his has in poets. In addition to verse, which appeared various peri- odicals and reviews, he has published a novel, a volume of literary criticism, and a book of political essays.

ROUMER, EMILE [Haiti] Jeremie, 1903- Poemes d'Hatti et de franee Roumer studied in Port au Prince and later lived in Paris and Man- chester, where he read widely in French and English literature. He carries on the manner of Duracine Vaval and makes particular use of local colour. His poetry is notable for its tropical sensuality.

639 NOTAS BIOGRAFICAS Y BI BL I O G R A F I C A S

SANCHEZ QUELL, HIPOLITQ [Paraguay] Asuncion, 1907- Sanchez Quell se prepare para la carrera de abogado y ha escrito libros que versan sobre hlstoria y literatura. Fue director del Ar- chivo Nacional del Paraguay. Es profesor de Historia y Sociologfa en la Ualversidad de Asuncion.

SELVA, SALOMON DE LA [Nicaragua] 1893- Tropical Town and Other Poems (1918) El soldado desconocido (1922) Salomon de la Selva, que ha vlvido en Mexico, escribe versos po- tentes -algunas veces de caracter proletario tanto en la forma tradicional como libre. Ha publicado un tomo de poemas en ingles; tradujo a Ruben Dario, y ha escrito articulos en ingles sobre la poesia americana.

STORNI, ALFONSINA [Argentina] Suiza, i892-Buenos Aires, 1938 La inquietud del rosal (1916) El duke dano (1918)

Inemediablemente . . , (1919) Languidez (1920) Ocre (1925) Mundo de siete pozos (1934) Alfonsina Storni nacio en la Suiza italiana. Cuando vino a la Argentina, vivio primero en San Juan y mas tarde en Buenos Aires. Fue durante la de su profesora y periodista ; mayor parte vida. Su obra esta llena de las preocupaciones de una mujer pro- fesional en la ciudad* Como poetisa del amor, cuaja bien por razon de su sencUla y sensual imageneria. Estilo y motivos suyos ban popularizado muchisirno su poesia.

SUASNAVAR, CONSTANTINO [Honduras]

Numeros (1940) Puerto de San Lorenzo, 1912- Constantino Suasnavar ha dirigido la revista Comizahual y tam- bien el diario El Norte. Su poesia es espontanea, con gracejo pro- letario en el tono, y estructura de romance.

64,0 BIOGRAPHICAL AND BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTES

SANCHEZ QUELL, HIPOLITO [Paraguay] Asuncion, 1907- Sanchez Quell was educated for the legal profession and has writ- ten books dealing with history and literature. He was Director of the National Archive of Paraguay and Professor of History and Sociology in the University of Asuncion.

SELVA, SALOMON DE LA [Nicaragua] Tropical Town and Other Poems (1918) El soldado desconoddo (1922) Salomon de la Selva, who has lived in Mexico, writes powerful verse sometimes proletarian in nature in traditional and in free forms. He has published a volume .of poems in English, has trans- lated Ruben Dario, and has written articles in English on Latin American poetry.

STORNI, ALFONSINA [Argentina] Switzerland, i892-Buenos Aires, 1938 La inquietud del rosal (1916) El dulce dano (1918)

Irremediablemente . . . (1919) Languidez (1920) Ocre (1925) Mundo de siete pozos (1934) Alfonsina Storni was born in Italian Switzerland. When she came to Argentina, she lived first in San Juan and later in Buenos Aires. Most of her life she was a schoolteacher and journalist. Her work is full of the preoccupations of an urban professional woman. As a love poet she is effective by reason of her simple, sensuous imagery.

Her style and subject matter have made her poetry extremely popular.

SUASNAVAR, CONSTANTINO [Honduras] Numeros (1940) Puerto de San Lorenzo, 1912- Constantino Suasnavar has edited the review Comizahual and the newspaper El Norte. His poetry is spontaneous, colourful, prole- tarian in tone, ballad-like in structure. NOTAS BIOGRAFICAS Y BI BLI OGR AF I C A S

TIEMPO, CESAR (Israel Zeitlin) [Argentina] Yekaterinoslao Ubro para la pausa del sdbado (1930) (Rusia), 1906- Sabation argentino (1933) Sdbadomingo (1938) Cesar Tiexnpo ha dirigido los diarios Critica y El Sol, y ha ganado un premio importante de poesia de la ciudad de Buenos Aires. El es, esencialmente, un sadrista y profeta. Redacta sus protestas contra la sociedad en terminos acedos y apocalipticos; ataca, particular- mente, la ceguera de sus projimos judios.

TORRES BODET, JAIME [Mexico] Mexico, 1902- Fervor (1918) La casa (1923) Los dms (1923) Biombo (1925) Poesias (1926) Destierro (1930) Cripta (1937) Torres Bodet se educo en k Universidad Nacional de Mexico.

En 1936 y 1937, fue jefe del departamento diplomatics del Minis- terio de Relaciones Exteriores de Mexico. Llego a ser Sdbsecretario de esta reparticion en 1940. Estuvo asociado con el grupo de jovenes intelectuales que publicaban, bajo la direccion de Bernardo Ortiz de Montellano, la revista Contempordneos. Su verso muestra las varias influencias que matizaron el movimiento poetico en Mexico,

VALLE, RAFAEL HEUODORO [Honduras] Tegucigalpa, 1891-

Anfora sedienta (1922) Valle fue secretario de la Comision de Limites de Honduras y Guatemala que actuo en Washington entre 1918 y 1920. Actual- mente, vive en Mexico, donde desempeiia el cargo de director de publicaciones del Museo NacionaL Es compilador del autorizado Indice de la Poesia Centroamericana (1941) * Su obra personal sigue la tradicion del simbolismo conservador*

642 BIOGRAPHICAL AND BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTES

TIEMPO, CESAR (Israel Zeitlin) [Argentina] Ekaterlnoslav Libra para la pausa del sdbado (1930) (Russia), 1906- Sabation argentine* (1933) Sdbadommgo (1938) Cesar Tiernpo has edited the newspapers Crltica and El Sol and has won an important poetry award from the city of Buenos Aires. He is essentially a satirist and a prophet. He couches Ms social protest in bitter, apocalyptic language; and he attacks, in particu- lar, the blindness and pretensions of his fellow Jews.

TORRES BODET, JAIME [Mexico] Mexico, 1902- Fervor (1918) La casa (1923) Los dias (1923) Poesias (1926) Biombo (1925) Destierro (1930) Crifta (1937) Torres Bodet was educated at the National University of Mexico. From 1936 to 1937 he was chief of the diplomatic division of the Mexican State Department. In 1940 he became Undersecretary of State. He was associated with the group of young intellectuals who published the review Contcmpordncos under the direction of Ber- n^rdo Ortiz de Montellano. His verse displays the various influ- ences which coloured the poetic movement in Mexico.

VALLE, RAFAEL HELIODORO [Honduras] Tegucigalpa, 1891- r Anjora sedienta (1922) Valle was secretary of the Boundary Commission of Honduras and Guatemala which functioned in Washington from 1918 to 1920. At present he lives in Mexico, where he holds the position of Director of Publications of the National Museum. He is the com- piler of the authoritative Indies de la poesia centramericana (1941). His own work is in the conservative symbolist tradition.

643 NOTAS BIOGRAFICAS Y BI BLI GR AF I C A S

VALLEJO, CESAR [Peru] Santiago de Chuco, i895~Paris, 1937 Los hcraldos negros (1918) Irilce (1922) Poemas humanos (1939)

Espanaj aparta de mi este cdliz (1940) Valiejo precede de una familia de la clase media, habiendo sido su alcalde del vlllorrio en naciera. padre? en alguna ocasion, que Su primera obra fue una interpretation amarga de la vida provincial. Este ilbro represento tambien su rompimiento con el simbolismo y tuvo un efecto profundo en la poesia contemporanea del Peril Poco despues de su publication el poeta fue injustamente acusado de robo e incendio, a raiz de lo cual fue enjuiciado y encarcelado durante varlos rneses. El sufrimiento ocasionado por esta experien- cia se refleja en partes de su segundo libro, Trilce. Incapaz de soportar el ambiente provincial, Valiejo se ue a Europa en 1923. Vivio en extrema pobreza en Espaina y Francia, ocupandose en el periodismo y publicando alguna que otra poesia, Pudo sin embargo escribir varios dramas. La guerra civil espanola lo conmovio pro- fundamente. En su lecfao de muerte, en Paris, el vocablo Espana estuvo constantemente en sus labios. Su ultimo libro fue impreso por los soldados del Ejercito del Este en papel elaborado por ellos mismos, pero toda la edicion fue destruida a la caida de Cata- lufia, y los poemas fueron reimpresos en Mexico, despues de su muerte, en 1940. Valiejo fue realmente un gran poeta de alta talk en la literatura moderna. Su poderosa imagination y su persona- lisimo y complicado esrilo hacen dificil el traducirlo: sus imagenes se desenvuelven a veces en dos y tres pianos distintos, a pesar de raramente se asocian ellas al que ? modo surrealista, con flojedad. Su humanitarismo y filosofia social estan mejor ejemplificados en su libro postumo, Poemas humanos, publicado en Paris por su viuda. Espana, aparta de mi este cdliz contiene poemas verdadera- mente heroicos y que constituyen probablemente las paginas mas bellas inspiradas por k agonia de Espana.

VARALLANOS, JOSE [Peril] Huanuco, 1905- kombre del .El Ande que asesino su esperanza (1928) Primer cancionero cholo (1936) Elegia en elmundo (1940)

644, BIOGRAPHICAL AND BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTES

VALLEJO, CESAR [Peru] Santiago de Chuco, iSps-Paris, 1937 Los heraldos negros (1918) Trilce (1922) Poemas humanos (1939) caliz Espanat aparta de mi este (1940) Vallejo came of a middle class family, his father having been at one time mayor of the small town in which he was born. His first work was a bitter- interpretation of provincial life. This book also repre- sented a break with symbolism and had a profound effect upon contemporary poetry in Peru. Shortly after its publication the poet was unjustly accused of robbery and arson, prosecuted, and this ex- kept in jail for some months. The suffering occasioned by perience is reflected in portions of his second book, Trilce. Unable to endure the provincial atmosphere, Vallejo left for Europe in 1923. He lived in extreme poverty in Spain and France, occupying himself with journalism and publishing but little poetry. He did, affected however, write several plays. The Spanish Civil War him profoundly. On his death bed in Paris the word 'Spain* was con- last set soldiers of the stantly on his lips. His book was up by Army themselves but of the East and printed on paper which they mades the entire edition was destroyed in the collapse of Catalufia, and the poems were posthumously printed in Mexico in 1940. Vallejo was a truly great poet and an important figure in modern letters. A powerful imagination and a personal and highly complicated style make him difficult to translate: his images sometimes work on two or even three levels, although they are seldom loosely asso- ciative in the surrealist manner. His humanitarianism and social

philosophy are best exemplified in the posthumous book Poemas humanos, published in Paris by his widow. Espana, aparta de mi este caliz contains poems that are truly heroic and probably the finest writing inspired by the agony of Spain.

VARALLANOS, JOSE [Peru] Huanuco, 1905- El hombre del Ande que asesin6 su esperanza (1928) Primer cancionero cholo (1936) Elegia en el mundo (1940)

645 NOTAS BIOGRAFICAS Y BI B LI OGR AF I C A S

Jose Varallanos es abogado. En 1936 dirigio la revista Altura. Se distingue por haber intentado fundar tin tipo nuevo de poesia: el romance cholo, suerte de romance mestizo, que contrasta con la poesia sacada de ks tradiciones indigenas.

VASQUEZ, EMILIO [Peru] Puno, 1903- Ahipampa (1933) lawantinmyo (1935) Vasquez es miembro de la escuek indigenista de Puno. Desparra- ma vocablos indios por sus escritos y ensalza los encantos de ks doncellas indias. Su poesia es mas delicada que la de Peralta, pero es del mismo estilo.

VAVAL5 DURACINE [Haiti] Aux Cayes, 1879- Stances haitiennes (1912) Vaval etudia a Paris et fut professeur a Port au Prince et juge au Tribunal de Cassation. II dirigea les Legations de Londres et de la Havane de 1909 a 1911. Fondateur de Fecole Parnasso-Symboliste, ilparticipa a k creation d'une litterature nationale.

PEDRO VIGNALE, JUAN [Argentina] Buenos Aires, 1903- Alba (1922) Retiro (1923) Naufragios y un viaje por tierra firme (1925) Candones para los ninos olvidados (1929) Con Candones, Vignale obtuvo el primer premio de poesia de la ciudad de Buenos Aires. Dirigio Martin Fierro, revista que desem- pefio un papel importante en la evolucion de la poesia moderna argentina. Se expresa el en verso pictorico, inspirado por motivos costumbristas.

646 BIOGRAPHICAL AND BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTES

Jose Varallanos is a lawyer. In 1936 he edited the review Altura. He is for noteworthy having attempted to found a new type of poetry, the romance cholo, or balladry of the mestizos^ as distinct from the poetry which is drawn from the Indian tradition.

VASQUEZ, EMILIO [Peru] Puno, 1903- Altipampa (1933) Tawantinsuyo (1935) Vasquez is a member of the Puno indigenist school. He scatters Indian words throughout his writing and celebrates the charms of

Indian girls. His poetry is more delicate than that of Peralta, but is similar in style.

VAVAL, DuRACiNi [Haiti] Aux Cayes, 1879- Stances haUienncs (1912) Vaval studied in Paris and has been a teacher in Port au Prince and a judge in the Court of Appeals. He headed the Legations in Lon- don and in Havana from 1909 to 1911. A founder of the Parnasso- Symbolist school, he was a pioneer in the creation of a national literature.

VIGNALE, PEDRO JUAN [Argentina] Buenos Aires, 1903- Alba (1922) Retire* (1923) Naufragios y un viaje par Uerra firme (1925) Condones para los ninos olvidados (1929) With Canciones Vignale obtained the first prize for poetry from the city of Buenos Aires. He was editor of Martin Fierro> a review which played a leading role in the modern movement in Argen- tinian poetry. He expresses himself in pictorial verse inspired by genre subjects.

647 N"OTAS BIOGRAFICAS Y BI BLI OGR A FI C AS

VILLAURRUTIA, XAVIER [Mexico] Mexico, 1904- Reflejos (1926) Nocturnos (1933) Nostalgia de la muerte (1938) Detima muerte (1941) Xavler Villaurrutia, que fue alumno de la Escuela Drainatica de Yale, se reclblo en k Escuela Nacional de Jurisprudencia. Es uno de los miembros mas destacados de la agrupaclon Ulises. Fundo en 1928 el Teatro Ulises, que fue el primero experimental en Me- xico. Ha escrito varios dramas y traducido obras de los principales dramaturges europeos.

WESTPHALEN, EMILIO ADOLFO VON [Peru] Lima, 1910- Las insulas extranas (1933) Abolition de la muerte (1935) Westphalen proyecto labrarse la carrera de ingeniero, pero la aban- dono por la literatura. Se educo en la Escuela Alemana de Lima y devino un protegido de Martin Adan. Esta ahora asociado con Cesar Moro y es uno de los dirigentes surrealistas. Westphalen no ha escapado a la influencia de Andre Breton y Luis Aragon, aunque su obra es de una sensibilidad algo mas austera que la de aquellos.

Luis FABIO XAMMAR, [Peru] Lima, 1911- Pensativamente (1930) Las voces armoniosas (1932) Waino (1937) Xammar ensena literatura en la Universidad de San Marcos. Se vio primeramente influenciado por Enrique Pena Barrenechea, mas se concrete a temas ? despues, pura y simplemente peruanos, reteniendo, entretanto, las formas del romance espanol.

648 BIOGRAPHICAL AND BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTES

VILLAURRUTIA, XAVIER [Mexico] Mexico, 1904- Reflejos (1926) Nocturnos (1933) Nostalgia de la muerte (1938) Decima muerte (1941) Xavier Villaurrutia, who was at one time a student in the Yale

School of the Drama, is a graduate of the National School of Juris- prudence. He is one of the most prominent members of the Ulim group, and in 1928 he founded the Ulises Theatre, the first experi- mental theatre in Mexico. He has written plays and translated works of the leading European dramatists.

WESTPHALEN, EMILIO ADOLFO VON [Peru] Lima, 1910- Las insulas extranas (1933) Abolicion de la muerte (1935) Westphalen planned a career in engineering, but dropped it for writing. He was educated at the Deutsche Schule in Lima and be- came a protege of Martin Adan. He is now associated with Cesar Moro as one of the leaders of the surrealists. Westphalen has been influenced by Andre Breton and Louis Aragon, although his work is rather more austere in feeling than theirs.

XAMMAR, Luis FABIO [Peru] Lima, 1911- Pensativamente (1930) IMS voces armoniosas (1932) Waino (1937) Xammar teaches literature in the University of San Marcos. He was at first influenced by Enrique Pena Barrenechea, but later he turned to purely Peruvian themes, while retailing much of the Spanish ballad-form.

649 Los Traductores THE TRANSLATORS

/. P. B. John Pcale Bishop B. L. C. Blanca Lopez Castellon M. B. D. Milton Ben Davis A. F. Angel Flores D. F. Dudley Fitts

R. S. F. Robert Stuart Fitzgerald H.R.H. H.R.Hays L. H. Langston Hughes R. H. Rolfe Humphries T. L. Thelma Lamb de Ortiz de Montellano M. L. Muna Lee de Munoz Maria

L.M. Lloyd Mallan R. O'C. Richard O'Connell

D. P. Dudley Poore

/. jR. F. Jose Rodriguez Feo

/. S. Joseph Staples D. D. W. Donald Devenish Walsh

650 Indice Onomastlco INDEX OF NAMES

ABRIL, XAVTER [Peru] PAGES 402-407 ADAN, MARTIN [Peru] 488-489 ANGUITA, EDUARDO [Chile] 552~555 AREVALO MARTINEZ, RAFAEL [Guatemala] 496-497 ARRIETA, RAFAEL ALBERTO [Argentina] 476-477 ASTURIAS, MIGUEL ANGEL [Guatemala] 156-157 BANDEIRA, MANUEL [Brasil] 124-139 BEDREGAL DE CONITZER, YOLANDA [Bolivia] 498-501 BORGES, JORGE Luis [Argentina] 64-73 BUSTAMANTE Y BALLIVIAN, ENRIQUE [Peru] 140-143 CADILLA, CARMEN ALICIA [Puerto Rico] 5 I -5 I 3 CANE, Luis [Argentina] 504-505 CANTON, WILBERTO L. [Mexico] 174-179 CARDOZA Y ARAGON, Luis [Guatemala] 53~533 CARRANZA, EDUARDO [Colombia] 180-183 CARRERA ANDRADE, JORGE [Ecuador] 2-21 CARRION, ALEJANDRO [Ecuador] 296-297 CARVALHO, RONALD DE [Brasil] 144-151 CASTRO Z., OSCAR [Chile] 526-529 DEL PiccHiAj MENOTTI [Brasil] 152-155 DRUMMOND DE A^TDRADE, CARLOS [Brasil] 184-191 D'SoLA, OTTO [Venezuela] 304-309 EGUREN, JOSE MARIA [Peru] 466-471 ESCUDERO, GONZALO [Ecuador] 384-389 ESTRADA, GENARO [Mexico] 446-453 ESTRADA, RAFAEL [Costa Rica] 170-173 FERRER, JOSE MIGUEL [Venezuela] 39~393 FLORIT, EUGENIO [Cuba] 28-37 FOMBONA-PACHANO, JACINTO [Venezuela] 280-289 FRANCO, Luis L. [Argentina] 202-203 651 INDICE ONOMASTICO - INDEX OF NAMES

GiRONDo? OLIVERIO [Argentina] 442-445 GONZALEZ Y CONTRERAS, GILBERTO [El Salvador] 196-197 GONZALEZ MARTINEZ., ENRIQUE [Mexico] viii-ix GOROSTIZA, JOSE [Mexico] 22-27 GUILLEN, NICOLAS [Cuba] 262-277 GUTIERREZ HERMOSILLO, ALFONSO 58-63 HEREDIA, JOSE RAMON [Venezuela] 522-525 S. HERRERA y DEMETRIO [Panama] 122-123 HUERTA, EFRAIN [Mexico] 338-345 HUIDOBRO, VICENTE [Chile] 370-383 IBANEZ, ROBERTO [Uruguay] 548-551 IBARBOUROU, JUANA DE [Uruguay] 490-493 * LARS, CLAUDIA [El Salvador] 198-201 LEZAMA LIMA, JOSE [Cuba] 228-237 LIMA, JORGE r>E [Brasil] 74-93 LOPEZ, Luis CARLOS [Colombia] 218-223 LOPEZ MERINO, FRANCISCO [Argentina] 472-475 MARECHAL, LEOPOLDO [Argentina] 544-547 MAYA, RAFAEL [Colombia] 456-459 MENPES, MURILO [Brasil] 94-95 MENDEZ, FRANCISCO [Nicaragua] 192-195 MENDEZ DORICH, RAFAEL [Peru] 420-423 MISTRAL, GABRIELA [Chile] 38-49 MORENO JIMENO, MANUEL [Peru] 298-303 MORO, CESAR [Peru] 408-415 MUNOZ MARIN, Luis [Puerto Rico] 224-227 NALE ROXLO, COK^ADO [Argentina] 506-509 NERUDA, PABLO [Chile] 3 IO~337 Novo, SALVADOR [Mexico] 96-101 OCAMPO, SILVINA [Argentina] 454-455 OLIVARES FIGUEROA R. ? [Venezuela] 158-159 OQUENBO DE AMAT, CARLOS [Peru] 352~355 ORIBE, EMILIO [Uruguay] 578-585 ORTIZ DE MoNTELLANOj BERNARDO [Mexico] 356-369 652 INDICE ONOMASTICO INDEX OF NAMES

OTERO REICHE, RAUL [Bolivia] 55^-577 OTERO SILVA, MIGUEL [Venezuela] 294-295 PALES MATOS, Luis [Puerto Rico] 204-217 PARDO GARCIA, GERMAN [Colombia] 462-465 PAZ, OCTAVIO [Mexico] 102-107 PEDROSO REGINO ? [Cuba] 244-249 PELLICER, CARLOS [Mexico] 346-351 PENA BARRENECHEA, ENRIQUE [Peru] 538-543 PERALTA, ALEJANDRO [Peru] 166-169 PEREDA VALDES., ILDEFONSO [Uruguay] 482-483 QUEREMEL, ANGEL MIGUEL [Venezuela] 278-279 REYES, ALFONSO [Mexico] 5~57 ROKHA, PABLO DE [Chile] 424-429 ROKHA, WINETT DE [Chile] 160-161 ROUMAIN, JACQUES [Haiti] 290-293 ROUMER, EMILE [Haiti] * 502-503 SANCHEZ QUELL, HIPOLITO [Paraguay] 162-163 SELVA, SALOMON DE LA [Nicaragua] 534~537 STORNI^ ALFONSINA [Argentina] 514-521 SUASNAVAR, CONSTANTINO [Honduras] 238-243 TIEMPO^ CESAR [Argentina] 250-261 TORRES BODET, JAIME [Mexico] 108-121 VALLE,, RAFAEL HELIDORO [Honduras] 494-495 VALLEJO, CESAR [Peru] 430-441

VARALLANOS ? JOSE [Peru] 164-165 VASQUEZ, EMILIO [Peru] 478-479

VAVAL? DURACINE [Haiti] 460-461 VIGNALE, PEDRO JUAN [Argentina] 484-487 VlLLAURRUTXA, XAVIER [Mexico] 394-401 WESTPHALEN, EMH.IO ADOLFO VON [Peru] 416-419 Luis FABIO XAMMAR? [Peru] 480-481

653 Indlce

ENRIQUE GONZALEZ MARTINEZ

Tnercele el Cuella al CIsne . . . PAGE viii JORGE CARRERA ANDRADE Primavera & Compania 2, Sierra 2 Domingo 4 La vita perfecta 6 Corte de cebada 6 Ha llovido por la noche 8 El huesped 10 Vocacion del espejo 10 Mai humor 12 La campanada de la una 12 Klare von Renter 14 Segunda vida de mi madre 14 Biografia para nso de los pajaros 18 JOSE GOROSTIZA Acuario 22 Una pobre conciencia 24

Mujeres , 24 EUGENIO FLORIT La nina nueva 28 A la mariposa muerta 30 En la muerte de alguien 30 Martirio de San Sebastian 32 Estrofas a una estatut 34 GABRIELA MISTRAL

La manca 38 El ruego 3g 654 Index

ENRIQUE GONZALEZ MARTINEZ Then Twist the Neck o this Delusive Swan PAGE ix JORGE CARRERA ANDRADE Spring & Co. 3 Sierra 3 Sunday 5 The Perfect Life 7 Reaping the Barley 7 It Rained in the Night 9 The Guest n Vocation of the Mirror 1 1 111 Humour 13 Stroke of One 13 Klare von Reuter 15 Second Life of my Mother 15 Biography for the Use of the Birds 19 JOSEGOROSTIZA Aquarium 23 A Poor Little Conscience 25 Women 25 EUGENIO FLORIT The Baby Girl 29 To the Dead Butterfly 31 On Someone's Death 31 The Martyrdom of Saint Sebastian 33 Strophes to a Statue 35 GABRIELA MISTRAL The Little Girl that Lost a Finger 39 Prayer 39 655 I N D I C E

Siiefio grande 42 Dios lo quiere 46 ALFONSO REYES Golfo de Mexico 50 ALFONSO GUTIERREZ HERMOSILLO Fuga 58 Tierra 60 JORGE LUIS BORGES Inscripcion sepulcral 64 A Rafael Cansinos Assens 64 Antelacion de amor 66 Casas como angeles 68 Un patio 68 La noche que en el sur lo velaron 70 JORGE DE LIMA Pae Joao 74 A ave 76 Poema de qualquer virgem 78 O grande circo mystico 80 Espirito Paraclito 84 Poema do Christao 88 MURILO MENDES Psalmo 94 SALVADOR NOVO El amigo ido 96 Viaje 96 La poesia 98 OCTAVIO PAZ El muro 102 Olvido 104 656 I N B E X

Deep Sleep 43 God Wills It 47 ALFONSO REYES Gulf of Mexico 51 ALFONSO GUTIERREZ HERMOSILLO Fugue 59 Earth 61 JORGE LUIS BORGES Sepulchral Inscription 65 To Rafael Cansinos Assens 65 Love's Priority 67 Houses like Angels 69 Patio 69 The Night they Kept Vigil in the South 71 JORGE DE LIMA Daddy John 75 The Bird 77 Poem of Any Virgin 79 The Big Mystical Circus 81 Paraclete 85 Christian's Poem 89 MURILO MENDES Psalm 95 SALVADOR NOVO The Departed Friend 97 Journey 97 Poetry 99 OCTAVIO PAZ The Wall 103 Oblivion 105 657 I N D I C E

JAIME TORRES BODET Ciudad 108 Mediodia no Danza 112 Hueso 114 Amor 114 Abril 116

DEMETRIO HERRERA S. Entrenamiento 122 MANUEL BANDEIRA

*" EvocafSo do Recife 124 Na Rua do Sabao 130 Mozart no ceu 132 A mata 132 O cacto 134 A estrada 136 Noite morta 136 ENRIQUE BUSTAMANTE Y BALLIVIAN El poste 140 RONALD DE CARVALHO Mercado de Trinidad 144 Interior 144 Brasil 146 MENOTTI DEL PICCHIA O beco 152 Baia de Guanabara 152 MIGUEL ANGEL ASTURIAS Los indios bajan de Mixco 156 R. OLIVARES FIGUEROA Sembrador 158 658 INDEX

JAIME TORRES BODET City 109 Noon in Dance 113 Core 115 Love 115 April 117

DEMETRIO HERRERA S. Training 123 MANUEL BANDEIRA

Salute to Recife 1:25 In Soapsuds Street 131 Mozart in Heaven 133 The Woods 133 The Cactus 13^ The Highway 137 Night of the Dead 137 ENRIQUE BUSTAMANTE Y BALLIVIAN Telegraph Pole 141 RONALD DE CARVALHO Trinidad Market 145 Interior 145 Brazil 147 MENOTTI DEL PICCHIA The Narrow Street 153 Bay of Guanabara 153 MIGUEL ANGEL ASTURIAS The Indians Come Down from Mixco 157 R. OLIVARES FIGUEROA

The Sower 159 659 I N I C E WINETT DE ROKHA Valse en la Plaza de Yungay 160 Cancion de Totnas, el ausente 160 n. SANCHEZ QUELL Elogio de la Calle Saccarello 162 JOSE VARALLANOS Tropel de montafias 164 ALEJANDRO PERALTA Travesia andinista 166 RAFAEL ESTRADA Soldados mexicanos 170 Huellas 170 Atardecer 172

WILBERTO L. CANTON En el Lago Llanquihue 174 Isla 174 EDUARDO CARRANZA Domingo 180 CARLOS DRUMMOND DE ANDRADE Infancia 184 Fantasia 186 Jardim da Praga de Liberdade 188 FRANCISCO MENDEZ Sangre en una piedra 192 GILBERTO GONZALEZ Y CONTRERAS Calor 196 Iglesia I96 660 INDEX WINETT DE ROKHA Waltz in Yungay Square 161 Song of Thomas, Departed 161 H. SANCHEZ QUELL Praise of Saccarello Street 163

JOSE VARALLANOS Mob of Mountains 165 ALEJANDRO PERALTA Andean Crossing 167 RAFAEL ESTRADA Mexican Soldiers 171 Traces 171 Twilight 173

WILBERTO L. CANTON On Lake Llanquihue 175 Island 175 EDUARDO CARRANZA

Sunday , 181 CARLOS DRUMMOND DE ANDRADE Childhood 185 Fantasia 187 Garden in Liberty Square 189 FRANCISCO MENDEZ

Blood on a Stone 193 GILBERTO GONZALEZ Y CONTRERAS Heat- 197 Church 197 661 I H 01 CE CLAUDIA LARS Cara y craz 198 Dibujo de la mujer que Ilega 198 LUIS L. FRANCO Aprisco 202 LUIS PALES MATOS El pozo 204 Claro de luna 204 Elegia del Duque de la Mermelada 206 Lagarto verde 208 Nanigo al cielo 210 LUIS CARLOS LOPEZ * 'Campesina, no dejes * . * 218 Noche de pueblo 220 Siesta del tropico 220 Toque de oracion 222 LUIS MUNOZ MARIN Proletarios 224 Panfleto 224 JOSE LEZAMA LIMA Rapsodia para el mulo 228 CONSTANTINO SUASNAVAR Nilimeros 238 REGINOPEDROSO Mafiana 244 Conceptos del nuevo estudiante 246 CESAR TIEMPO Cementerio israelita 250 Arenga en la muerte de Jaim Najman Bialik 252 662 INDEX CLAUDIA LARS Heads and Tails 199 Sketch of the Frontier Woman 199 LUIS L.FRANCO Goat Pen 203 LUIS PALES MATOS The Well . 205 Claire de lune 205 Elegy of the Duke of Marmalade 207 Look Out for the Snake! 209 Ndnigo to Heaven 211 LUIS CARLOS LOPEZ

' 'Country Girl, Don't Stay Away . . . 219 Village Night 221 Tropic Siesta 221 Vespers 223 LUIS MUNOZ MARIN Proletarians 225 Pamphlet 225 JOSE LEZAMA LIMA Rhapsody for the Mule 229 CONSTANTINO SUASNAVAR Numbers 239 REGINOPEDROSO Tomorrow 245 Opinions of the New Student 247 CESAR TIEMPO

Israelite Graveyard 251 Harangue on the Death of Chayim Nachman Bialik 253 663 I 1ST D I C E 4

Oracion 258 Llorando y cantando 258 NICOLAS GUILLEN

' *No se por que piensas tu* 262 Soldado muerto 264 Dos nliios 264 Cantaliso en un bar 266 Visita a un solar 270 Velorio de Papa Montero 274 ANGEL MIGUEL QUEREMEL Romance de amor y de sangre 278 JACINTO FOMBONA-PACHANO Un alerta para Abraham Lincoln 280 Muerte en el aire 282 Mientras yo decia mi canto 286 JACQUES ROUMAIN Quand bat le tam-tam 290 Guinee 290 MIGUEL OTERO SILVA Siembra 294 ALEJANDRO CARRION Buen ano 296 MANUEL MORENO JIMENO Los Malditos 298 OTTO D'SOLA Plenitud 304 Antes de llegar los aviones que incendian las ciudades 306 Canto final a una muchacha de puerto 306 664 INDEX

Prayer 259 Weeping and Singing 259 NICOLAS GUILLEN 'Soldier, I Can't Figure Why' 263 Dead Soldier 265 Two Children 265 Cantaliso in a Bar 267 Visit to a Tenement 271 Wake for Papa Montero 275 ANGEL MIGUEL QUEREMEL Ballad of Love and Blood 279 JACINTO FOMBONA-PACHANO A Warning for Abraham Lincoln 281 Death over the Air 283 While I Sang my Song 287 JACQUES ROUMAIN When the Tom-tom Beats 29 1 Guinea 291 MIGUEL OTERO SILVA Sowing 295 ALEJANDRO CARRION A Good Year 297 MANUEL MORENO JIMENO The Damned 299 OTTO D'SOLA Plenitude 305 Before the Coming ot the Planes that Burn the Cities 307 Last Song to -a Girl of the Waterfront 307 665 1 N D I C E PABLONERUDA Walking around ? Ritual de mis piernas 3

Caballero solo ].: Sonata y destrucciones

. Solo la muerte ; Coleccion nocturna

7 de Noviembre : Oda a un dia de victor ia^

< Entierro en el este ; EFRAINHUERTA

Los ruidos del alba ; V: Recuerdo del amor 3 e CARLOS PELLICER Estudio 346 Domingo 346 Tercera vcz 348 CARLOS OQUENDO.DE AMAT Poema del manicomio 352 Poema surrealista del elefante y del canto 352 El angel y la rosa 354 Madre 354 BERNARDO ORTIZ DE MONTELLANO Segundo sueno 356 VICENTE HUIDOBRO

* *Apportez des jeux ... 370 * * Je suis un peu lune ... 370 ' *Tu n'as . . jamais connu Farbre de la tendresse . 372 *Noye charmant* 374 Arte poetica 376 Ronda 376 Naturaleza viva 378 Ella 666 INDEX PABLO NERUDA Walking Around 31 1 Liturgy of my Legs 313 Lone Gentleman 319 Sonata and Destructions 32 1 Death Alone 323 Nocturnal Collection 327 November 7: Ode to a Day of Victories 331 Burial in the East 337 EFRAINHUERTA The Sounds of Dawn 339 Recollection of Love 341 CARLOS PELLICER Etude 347 Sunday 347 Third Time 349 CARLOS OQUENDO DE AMAT Madhouse Poem 353 Surrealist Poem of the Elephant and the Song 353 The Angel and the Rose 355 Mother 355 BERNARDO ORTIZ DE MONTELLANO Second Dream 357 VICENTE HUIDOBRO "Bring Games' 371

*I am partly moon . . . 371 'You Have Never Known the Tree of * Tenderness ... 373 ^Bewitching Drowned' 375 The Art of Poetry 377 Round 377 Nature vive 379 She 381 667 I N X> I C E GONZALO ESCUDERO Los dolmenes 384 Dios 384 Zoo 386 JOSE MIGUEL FERRER Nocturo del pecado y su delacion 390 XAVIER VILLAURRUTIA Nocturno en que habla la muerte 394 Nocturno de los angeles 396 XAVIER ABRIL Elegia a la perdido y ya borrado del tiempo 402 Elegia a la mujer inventada 404 Exaltacion de las rnaterias elementales 406 Nocturno 406 CESAR MORO Vienes en la noche con el humo fabuloso de tu cabellera 408 Vision de pianos apolillados cayendo en ruinas 410 El mundo ilustrado 412 EMILIO ADOLFO VON WESTPHALEN Andando el tiempo 416 RAFAEL MENDEZ DORICH Llevaba la lampara 420 Porcelana del norte 420 Los gatos blancos de la duquesa 422 PABLO DEROKHA Alegoria del tormento 424 CESAR VALLEJO Xas personas mayores' 430 668 INDEX GONZALO ESCUDERO The Dolmens 385 God 385 Zoo 387 JOSE MIGUEL FERRER Nocturne of Sin and its Accusation 391 XAVIER VILLAURRUTIA Nocturne in which Death Speaks 395 Angel-Nocturne 397 XAVIER ABRIL Elegy to the Lost and Already Blurred by Time 403 Elegy to the Invented Woman 405 Exaltation of Elementary Materials 407 Nocturne 407 CESAR MORO You Come in the Night with the Fabulous Smoke of your Hair 409 Vision of Moth-eaten Pianos Falling to Pieces 411 " The Illustrated World 413 EMILIO ADOLFO VON WESTPHALEN As Time Goes On 417 RAFAEL MENDEZ DORICH She was Carrying the Lamp 421 Porcelain of the North 421 The Duchess's White Cats 423 PABLO DEROKHA Allegory of Torment 425 CESAR VALLEJO 'The Grown-ups' 431 669 I N" D I C E

*Dobla el dos de Noviembre* 432 *Si lloviera esta noche' 434 La araiia 434 Heces 436 Espana, aparta de mi este caliz 438 OLIVERIO GIRONDO

Calle de las Sierpes 442 GENARO ESTRADA Cancioncilla en el aire 446 Queja del perdido amor 448 Parafrasis de Horaclo 450 SILVINA OCAMPO Palinuma insomne 454 RAFAEL MAYA

Alia lejos 456 DURACINE VAVAL Les mangos 460 GERMAN PARDO GARCIA El instante 462 La lejania 462 JOSE MARIA EGUREN La nina de la lampara azul 466 Marginal 466 Lied V 470 FRANCISCO LOPEZ MERINO Cancion para despues 472 * *Mis los ... primas5 domingos 472 RAFAEL ALBERTO ARRIETA Noche de enero 476 670 INDEX

'The Second of November Tolls' 433 *I it Rained Tonight* 435 The Spider 435 Dregs 437 Spain, Take from Me this Cup 439 OLIVERIO GIRONDO

Las Sierpes Street 443 GENARO ESTRADA Little Song in the Air 447 Lament for Lost Love 449 Paraphrase of Horace 451 SILVINA OCAMPO

Sleepless Palinurus 455 RAFAEL MAYA Far Over Yonder 457 DURACINE VAVAL The Mangoes 461 GERMAN PARDO GARCIA The Moment 463 Remoteness 463 JOSE MARIA EGUREN The Girl with the Blue Lamp 467 Marginal 467 Lied V 471 FRANCISCO LOPEZ MERINO Song for Afterwards 473 * *My Cousins, on Sundays . . . 473 RAFAEL ALBERTO ARRIETA January Night 477 671 I 1ST D I C E

EMILIO VASQUEZ Imilla 478 LUIS FABIO XAMMAR El puquial 480 ILDEFONSO PEREDA VALDES Cancion de cuna para dormir a un negrito 482 PEDRO JUAN VIGNALE El granadero muerto 484 MARTIN ADAN Navidad

JUANA DE IBARBOUROU Noche de lluvia 490 RAFAEL HELIODORO VALLE El anfora sedienta 494 RAFAEL AREVALO MARTINEZ Ropa limpia 496 YOLANDA BEDREGAL DE CONITZER Frente a ml retrato 498 EMILEROUMER Declaration paysanne 502 LUIS CANE Oracion de cada despertar 504 CONRADO NALE ROXLO Nocturne 506 Partida 506 Lo imprevlsto 508 672 INDEX

EMILIO VASQUEZ Indian Girl 479 LUIS FABIO XAMMAR The Spring 481 ILDEFONSO PEREDA VALDES Cradle Song to Put a Negro Baby to Sleep 483 PEDRO JUAN VIGNALE The Dead Grenadier 485 MARTIN ADAN Nativity 489 JUANA DE IBARBOUROU Rainy Night 491 RAFAEL HELIODOROVALLE ' Thirsting Amphora 495 RAFAEL AREVALO MARTINEZ Clean Clothes YOLANDA BEDREGAL DE CONITZER Facing My Portrait 499 EMILEROUMER The Peasant Declares his Love 503 LUIS CANE

Prayer for Each Awakening 505 CONRADO NALE ROXLO Nocturne 507 The Game 507 The Unforeseen 509 673 I N !>I CE

CARMEN ALICIA CADILLA Responses 510 Aire triste 510 Angelus 512 ALFONSINA STORNI Mundo de siete pozos 514 Peso ancestral 518 Epitafio para mi tumba 518 JOSE RAMON HEREDIA Mi poema a los ninos muertos en la gtierra de Espana 522

OSCAR CASTRO Z. Responso a Garcia Lorca 526 LUIS CARDOZA Y ARAGON Romance de Federico Garcia Lorca 530 SALOMON DE LA SELVA Elegfa 534 ENRIQUE PENA BARRENECHEA Elegia a Becquer 538 Camino del hombre 538 Poetas muertos 540 LEOPOLDO MARECHAL Cortejo 544 ROBERTO IBANEZ

Elegia por los ahogados que retornan 548 EDUARDO ANGUITA Oficio 552 Transito al fin 554 674 INDEX

CARMEN ALICIA CADILLA

Responsories 5 ! i Sad Air Angelus ALFONSINA STORNI World of Seven Wells Ancestral Burden 519 Epitaph for my Tomb 519 JOSE RAMON HEREDIA My poem to the Children Killed in the War iif Spain 523

OSCAR CASTRO Z. Responsory for Garcia Lorca 527 LUIS CARDOZA Y ARAGON Ballad of Federico Garcia Lorca 53 1 SALOMON DE LA SELVA Elegy 535 ENRIQUE PENA BARRENECHEA Elegy for Becquer 539 Man's Road 539 Dead Poets 541 LEOPOLDO MARECHAL Cortege 542 ROBERTO IBANEZ Elegy for the Drowned Men who Return 549 EDUARDO ANGUITA Service 553 Passage to the End 555 675 INDEX & RAUL OTERO REICHE The Night was Going 557 Romanza of the Guitarist 557 America 561 EMILIO ORIBE Song to the Glory of the Sky of America 579

6/6 I N D I C E RAUL OTERO REICHE Se iba la noche 556 Romanza del guitarrero 556 America 560 EMILIO ORIBE

Canto a la gloria del cielo de America 578

677